


To Withstand the Force of Storms

by dazylein



Category: La casa de papel | Money Heist (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Heist, M/M, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon, Slow Burn, Substance Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:13:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 27
Words: 75,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26838016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dazylein/pseuds/dazylein
Summary: Set immediately before ~the kiss~: Berlin actually has a reason to drive Palermo away and the story takes us back to the first heist the two ever pulled together.
Relationships: Berlin | Andrés de Fonollosa & Original Female Character(s), Berlin | Andrés de Fonollosa/Palermo | Martín Berrote
Comments: 73
Kudos: 185





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to see if I could figure out a way to rationalize Berlin rejecting Palermo when he _obviously_ loves him back and this is what I came up with. The story is split into three parts and the present portion picks up a few days after the bar scene in 4x07 where Palermo confesses to Sergio that he loves Berlin.

# Part 1

> We have not touched the stars, nor are we forgiven, which brings us back to the hero’s shoulder and a gentleness that comes, not from the absence of violence, but the abundance of it. – R. Silken.

**Past**

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Berlin turned away from the sculpture and looked at the scrubby looking man standing next to him. He was a few inches shorter than Berlin and had a boyish face. Big green eyes, round nose, and a crooked smile all came together to portray the perfect picture of innocence. Berlin just hoped looks betrayed this man and that he was indeed as mature and intelligent as Bogota had promised. He needed to work with a professional on this job.

“Martín Berrote. You must be Andrés,” he introduced himself with a thick Argentinian accent. His skin felt rough against Berlin’s as the two shook hands: his chubby fingers wrapping around Berlin’s slender ones. _Like Ying and Yang_ , Berlin thought, unable to take his eyes off Palermo’s toothy grin.

“So what’s the job?” Palermo asked once they’d stopped strolling around the Bilbao art gallery and had settled down at the gallery’s café, finding a quiet corner table outside of anyone’s earshot.

“A jewellery show in Madrid. A certain necklace that’s caught my attention will be displayed.”

Palermo teasingly raised his eyebrow, eyes shining bright against the sunlight. “Who’s the lucky lady?”

Before Berlin could answer, a server approached their table. “Can I get you anything?”

“I’ll have a cup of mazagran, no rum please.”

Palermo shot him a confused look. “I’ll just have a regular coffee.”

Fully taking in Palermo’s messy black hair and ruffled clothing, Berlin forced himself to smirk coyly. On the inside, he wanted to kill Bogota. He had specifically said he wanted an experienced, skilled worker. He hadn’t asked for this _boy_ who’d shown up in jeans and a band t-shirt; even Sergio put more thought into his appearance. It would be impossible to go unnoticed at a high-class jewellery show with this man.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Palermo said, pulling Berlin out of his thoughts. His tone was confident, eyes twinkling in a way that made Berlin feel as if he was being dared to answer. _Ridiculous_ , he had nothing to be ashamed of.

“My wife,” Berlin replied, with a cool smile on his own. “What can I say? She loves emeralds and I want to spoil her with this one.”

“Son of a bitch, I was joking! You seriously don’t plan on selling it?” Palermo’s eyes grew impossibly larger, the humour in his voice was gone. “I’m sure your wife will love the gesture but how the fuck am I going to benefit from this?”

“Well, for one, the event has a dress code. So regardless of what happens, by the end of the night you’ll have something decent to wear. Secondly, you’ll learn to appreciate art, which is a priceless gift in itself. And lastly,” Berlin paused for dramatic effects, “I will, of course, compensate you for your services." Almost as an afterthought, he added: “Assuming you’re capable of doing your job.”

Palermo’s facial expression changed once again. Gone was the childlike resemblance and his next words sounded more like a threat than a simple statement: “I am more than capable, señor.”

Berlin was unfazed by the unexpected shift in Palermo’s demeanour, it was more amusing than anything. “Prove it,” he said coolly.

Palermo leaned over the table, his face close enough for Berlin to spot a few freckles on his skin. “I could steal the thing easily myself, you know,” he hissed, his words sparking a flare in Berlin’s bloodstream, making him suddenly become very interested in the conversation.

He mimicked Palermo’s gesture and leaned over the small table, their noses just a slight movement away from touching. “Why don’t you try and find out? Let’s call it a friendly competition between two…. professionals.” He smirked and leaned back against the chair, folding his hands in his lap triumphantly. He was sure of himself that Palermo wouldn’t have the talent to even _get_ into the building to begin with.

“What’s the grand prize?” Palermo asked, not at all intimated by Berlin’s words.

“If you win, I’ll buy the necklace off you.”

“How much’s that?”

“1.5 million euros.”

Palermo appreciatingly whistled through his teeth. “And, if I don’t win?” He stated the question as if it was a purely hypothetical one.

Berlin opened his mouth, about to suggest something snarky and useless, but was able to stop himself just in time. Bogota had said this man was a learned engineer, a hidden genius in his field, known for his meticulous designs and ideas. He thought back on the last conversation he had with Sergio regarding their plans. How Sergio had reluctantly admitted they needed more capital knowledge to plan it all out. Maybe Palermo was unfit for a jewellery robbery, but that didn’t render him completely useless for other heists. Berlin just hoped he could trust Bogota’s word on this man’s talent.

Berlin smiled at the server who placed his coffee in front of him and took a sip of the cold beverage, thinking his next words over carefully. “If I get the necklace, you’ll have to take part in the world’s biggest heist.”

That earned him another laugh. It was just as boyish as the rest of him, the sound putting Berlin strangely at ease. “Looks like I have nothing to lose then.”

Berlin couldn’t help but return his arrogant smile.

*

* * *

**Present**

“He’s uncontrollable and completely unpredictable!”

“Yes, you’ve already said that, Sergio. If you came here just to repeat your speech again, I suggest you get a parrot,” Berlin said feigning disinterest, his eyes staring intensely at the warrior statue. The last conversation he’d had with his brother in Madrid was still a sore memory. “And keep your voice down it’s bad manners to yell at a museum.”

“What are we even doing here?”

“Well, we didn’t see each other on National Siblings Day, so I figured we’ll make it up today. Besides, you followed me here, I never asked you to join.”

“Because you won’t listen!”

“Sergio, what else is there to say that you haven’t been preaching to me over the last few years? Martín is as much involved in the plan as I am.”

“He’s in love with you.”

Berlin looked away from the statue and into his brother’s brown eyes, trying to find in them whatever Sergio wasn’t telling him verbally.

He sighed dramatically. “Not this again. Martín and I are good friends, Sergio. Didn’t I tell you not to read too much into my relationship with him?” Berlin berated sternly, pushing the words through his teeth.

For years Martín and he had been friends now, years which they spent building their trust and learning everything there was about the other. They had moved away from the games they used to play and into a safe area where the boundaries were never crossed. Boundaries, which his brother was now taking a chainsaw to and turning into sawdust.

“I’m not reading into it. He told me himself that he loves you,” Sergio admitted reluctantly, making Berlin’s heart stop. “Not that he needed to. It’s obvious, he adores everything you do. Why can’t you see it?”

Of course Berlin knew what Sergio was referring to. They way Palermo would smile at him sometimes, like Berlin was the best fucking thing in the world. The gentle touches of his fingertips that always sent goosebumps down Berlin’s back. The compliments, the eagerness to please him, the silent acceptance whenever Berlin did something stupid. If you looked at it from that perspective, then _sure_ , it might seem like Palermo loved him. But the little glimmer in Palermo’s eyes had been there from the start and Berlin knew better than to fall for it again.

Although it was strange for Palermo to suddenly admit his feelings to Sergio, out of all people. Berlin didn’t know how to react to this second-hand love confession that his brother had just delivered to him, let alone how to feel about it. They were friends. _Colleagues_. They’d been so careful to keep it that way. Their entire relationship relied on this mutual agreement. It didn’t make _sense_ for Palermo to just break it suddenly. They’d quit playing that fucking game, Berlin thought he’d made that point clear.

“I’ve thought about this for a while now and there’s just too much risk involved in having Martín take part in the plan, Andrés. He’s short-tempered, reckless, and he won’t take anything seriously.”

“He takes this heist seriously!” Berlin cut in sharply.

“Because you’re part of it! He knows this plan is ours and he’s only doing it for you! He would’ve abandoned it years ago if you weren’t in it.”

“You need to give him a little bit more credit,” Berlin tried to keep his voice low and controlled. Sergio’s explanation didn’t make any sense to him and Berlin refused to play around with the idea to make it fit. “Martín practically threw himself at the plan right from the start. If it weren’t for his input, you’d still be trying to dig out that tunnel.”

“Fine, I admit, he was useful at the beginning. But we have to look at it from his perspective. Back then, the plan was the only thing tying him to you. So, of course, he needed to make himself useful.”

Berlin couldn’t help it. He hung his head and laughed loudly until other people at the museum were beginning to stare at him. Feeling their eyes trained on him centred Berlin back to the present. Back to reality and away from a string of what-if’s thoughts that Sergio had conjured in his mind. This entire conversation was utterly ridiculous.

“Fuck, Sergio. Not everyone has a masterplan behind their actions.”

“Considering he can barely think around you, I would be surprised if he did.” Berlin huffed out another laugh at those words, which Sergio pointedly ignored and continued: “Ever since I got here, he’s been doing whatever you tell him and doesn’t bother forming an opinion of his own.”

“So what? Aren’t people supposed to follow my lead?”

“Yes, but not blindly!”

Berlin walked away from his brother and over to the next display. At first glance, the sculpture looked like a tall, golden needle. He was in the midst of trying to understand the symbolism of the art piece when Sergio sneaked up beside him again.

“Andrés, I’m serious. We both agreed we wouldn’t bring any personal feelings into the heist. It’s bad enough that the two of you are friends. I don’t trust Martín to be able to think critically in there, he’s unpredictable as it is and, quite frankly, short-sighted. If something doesn’t go his way, he’s going to prioritize you over everything else and we simply cannot risk our chances.”

“Will you relax, Sergio? I already voiced your impudent concerns to Martín and he said he’d talked to you about it.”

“That’s another thing! You told him about the conversation we had in Madrid,” Sergio hissed accusingly. Berlin could hear a hint of betrayal and hurt in his voice.

“And now you’re telling me about the one you had with him. I suppose that puts us in a bit of a triangle, don’t you think?”

“You went behind my back, I told you this in confidence. For fuck’s sake Andrés, we’re brother.”

“I told you not to trust me,” Berlin said quietly, but with determination.

“He _cannot_ take part in the heist on the Mint. I’ve watched the two of you for years, I’ve _warned_ you not to let this happen. And what did you do? He’s following you more love-sick and recklessly than ever!”

Silence wrapped around them. Berlin pretended to focus on the statue in front of him, while his mind kept running over and over the conversation and always getting stuck on the three words that started it all. _He loves you_. Berlin couldn’t deal with this right now. He needed to think rationally.

“Let’s say -completely hypothetically of course- that I agree with you,” Berlin began, realizing a flaw in his brother’s logic. “That Martín should be excluded from the plan. A plan that he knows every detail of, that he could reiterate in his sleep. How exactly are you going to stop him from taking part in it? At this point, he’s as much involved in this as we are.”

“I know,” Sergio muttered, letting his finger glide over one of the metal exhibit labels. _Luca Tancredi (1962), Sbalzo di Mezzanotte, 2004._

“I don’t agree with your decision,” Berlin said decidedly. “He will serve the plan accordingly and he _will_ follow my authority.”

“You don’t get it, do you?” Sergio suddenly snapped at him. “He’s only obeying your every fucking order _because_ he’s in love with you. We can’t rely on his feelings for you to keep him in control. If shit goes wrong in the mint, he’s not going to listen to you. He’s going to do whatever he _thinks_ is best for you. He might follow you like a dog, Andrés, but he’s certainly not hooked on any leash.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“That you don’t have him in control! Agreeing with your crazy ideas puts him on your good side and that’s the only reason he’s going along with them. The moment he stops seeing a benefit in having you as a leader, he’s going to turn completely uncontrollable and put the entire plan at risk.”

Seemingly calm, Berlin let his eyes travel across the open room. They were almost done the tour, yet Berlin could hardly remember any of the art he’d looked at. His mind was too focused on Palermo and Sergio’s haunting words. He was sick of having this conversation with his brother.

“You’re wrong about him,” he said harshly and looked at his brother with hostility. Before Sergio could open his mouth to make yet another argument proving his point, Berlin walked away and out of the museum.

*


	2. Chapter 2

**Past**

Berlin had been anxiously waiting for this day. Strange as it may seem, he hadn’t been able to get Palermo out of his head. He was curious, to say the least, to find out whether or not Palermo would be here tonight.

Berlin scanned the crowd in the indoor hall where the jewellery show was taking place at. Too many dark-haired men in tuxedos filled the room. _That’s if he even dressed up for it_. Berlin wouldn’t put it past Palermo to show up in jeans again. Palermo was the type to stand out in a crowd like a sore thumb. His statements were bold, overdramatized, begging to be the centre of attention. It hadn’t taken Berlin long to figure that out.

“Looking for something, señor?” The question was spoken with an Argentinian accent and Berlin couldn’t help but smile when green eyes reunited with his.

“So you did have the balls to show up. I’m glad you came to say hello, I don’t think I would’ve recognized you in the crowd with that suit on.”

His charcoal hair was gelled back nicely, making it shiny in the artificial light. He looked handsome, like a millionaire’s son who came here to waste money on things he didn’t understand. Berlin was glad Palermo had found him; taking him out of the playing field would make this job go a lot smoother.

“I fit right in, don’t I?” He chuckled and spun on his heels to allow Berlin a full view of the suit. It was a black, four-piece; perfectly tailored to Palermo’s body. Nothing out of the ordinary, except for the ass. Berlin rarely ever glanced at another man’s butt, but he couldn’t help but notice the roundness and tight fit of the dress pants when Palermo gave him a second spin.

“Your pants are too tight,” Berlin noted dryly, hoping Palermo didn’t notice him swallow at the sight.

Judging by his smirk and confidence, he must have. “It’s okay, guapo. Once I get my reward money from you, I promise the first thing I’ll buy with it will be a brand new suit. I might even get you to help me pick it out,” he added with a cocky wink.

Berlin ignored the comment. He felt like Palermo currently had the upper hand and Berlin wanted to switch the conversation desperately. “Did you find the trophy yet?”

“I’m afraid I have no idea what it even looks like.” Lie, but Berlin was willing to play along.

“I don’t think you ever properly described it to me,” Palermo added, “a few details couldn’t hurt, you know, especially for a silly old boy like me.” He exaggeratedly fluttered his eyelashes, drawing attention to just how dangerously close the two were standing together. Berlin didn’t know whether to take a step forward or back.

“The chain is made of platinum,” he began. His voice steady although he felt frozen in place. “Decorated with pellets of yellow gold. The center stone is framed with 126 round, brilliant, marquise diamonds and the emerald itself is of the most vibrant–”

“Emerald?” Palermo interrupted, looking comically confused. “Now what’s that?”

“It’s a gemstone,” Berlin explained. This game was turning too childish for his own liking, so he decided to add a little twist to it. “The purest crystal of the green-ray, similar to your eyes. If you were to hold the gem against the light, it would twinkle and shine just as bright.”

His smirk was immediately returned. “Maybe you should consider giving the necklace to me then, instead of your wife.” Palermo fell for the bait like a fish caught on a hook.

“Seeing how she and I parted ways, I just might. Although, I’m not sure I would ever be able to take my own eyes off you with that little piece of accessory on.”

Palermo took a step closer, almost crushing the distance between them completely. His stance was confident, his smile cocky, but Berlin could see a faint blush on his cheeks that gave the whole act away. “If you’re worried about falling for my good looks, we can just turn the light off and explore solely with our sense of touch.”

His words could not have been said more perfectly. Berlin casually slipped one hand in the pocket of his blazer. There, he found a little plastic remote. Gently but firmly, his thumb brushed against the round button just as Palermo finished his sentence. Touch, Berlin did.

A bang echoed through the building, making the floor shake. The lights went off. The alarm began to ring. People screamed in panic. Meanwhile, Berlin had to bite his lips to stop himself from laughing in victory.

“Motherfucker.” It took less than a second for Palermo to catch on. Palermo grabbed him by the collar and Berlin could feel Palermo’s hot breath against his cheek. The smell of peppermint invaded his nose, mixed with aftershave and a hint of cologne. “We never agreed to hire other people. This bet was supposed to be between the two of us alone.”

Coolly, Berlin put his own hands over Palermo’s and forced him to let go of his dress shirt. “Relax, cariño. This was always supposed to be a two-men job. Just because you didn’t get my final rose, doesn’t mean someone else didn’t deserve it.”

Palermo’s hands escaped his and swiftly landed a punch to Berlin’s jaw. “You cheated,” he hissed.

“I never said I would play fair.” Berlin laughter was demeaning, his good mood not at all offset by the blow. “Did you honestly think I’d risk losing to an amateur?”

Another punch headed his way, but this time, Berlin caught it. He’d played dirty, and, admittedly, deserved to be punched, but once was enough.

Still having his fist bound by Berlin’s tight grip, Palermo pressed his nose against his temple, his lips brushing against Berlin’s ear as he hissed: “I am _not_ an amateur.”

Berlin was tempted to provoke him some more, but time was running out and he needed to leave the premises. “I’d love for you to prove me wrong, but I’m afraid I have to go now.”

“I’ll walk you out.”

Berlin sighed inwardly. He wouldn’t be able to get rid of Palermo until this fractured ego of his had been restored. Berlin almost regretted making fun of the man.

“One wrong move and I will wrap the chain around your balls and push the emerald up your ass until you can’t stand anymore.” He warned him but felt Palermo shrug his shoulder carelessly at the threat.

“If that’s what you’re into, I’m sure you and I can figure something out that will satisfy us both.”

They quickly made their way through the panicking crowd toward the exit, Berlin moving swiftly around the people, in a half-hearted attempt to sneak away from Palermo. He wasn’t sure what Palermo would do once they were outside.

Berlin was starting to pick up on Palermo’s behaviour. His moods were unpredictable, his words too calculated to be dumbed down as witty. Maybe Berlin had misjudged him. Maybe there was more behind Palermo’s innocent features than Berlin had given him credit for.

He felt a rush of adrenaline at the thought of finding out what Palermo would do to him next.

*

* * *

**Present**

_He’s in love with you. He adores everything you do. Why can’t you see it?_ The conversation with Sergio repeated itself in Berlin’s mind over and over again, like a record player whose needle he didn’t have the strength to lift.

_He’s in love with you._ _He adores everything you do. Why can’t you see it?_

The idea that Palermo loved him wasn’t the reason why Berlin felt a sudden trepidation stirring in his lower stomach and making its way up to his throat until his mouth felt dry. It’s where the fact led that caused him to worry. It beckoned a question that Berlin had pushed into the furthest corner of his mind. Something Berlin had spent years convincing himself didn’t exist. _Couldn’t_ exist.

_He’s in love with you._ _He adores everything you do. Why can’t you see it?_

“Shut up!” Berlin yelled at the cold stone wall of his room in the chapel. He didn’t know what to do. He’d never felt this way before. Not about Tatiana, not about anyone. He loved Palermo; he would never deny it. But how did he love him? He’d come a long way from band shirts to Armani dress shirts.

_He’s in love with you._

Berlin punched the wall until his knuckles were covered in blood, screaming in frustration. He didn’t want to think anymore but knew that he had to if he wanted to maintain control over this situation.

He was married now, happily so. To Tatiana, a woman whom he could love and undoubtedly trust. But he trusted Palermo too, didn’t he?

_Not when it came to this._

Berlin stopped punching the wall and leaned against it. Breathing heavily, he looked down at his bloody knuckles. The silver wedding band was smeared with blood and strangulating his finger. He wiggled it off and looked at the engravement. _T + A_. Although only a few months had passed since Berlin had stolen the ring at an auction house, he couldn’t for the life of him remember why he’d done it.

Tatiana never challenged him, never mentally stimulated him, never discussed anything of importance with him. His conversations with her were merely an exchange of information, they never created anything together with the information they shared. He could never plan a robbery such as that on the Bank of Spain with Tatiana; they didn’t complete each other in a way that Palermo and he did.

Tatiana’s laughter was high-pitched and carefree, her body a fragile medley of curves and soft flesh, her smell sweet and tender. Palermo didn’t offer him any of that. His body was rough, with no curves, just edges, and he smelled of sweat and aftershave half the time. His face was too boyish, his nose too big, and his lips were too thin. And yet, Berlin was never as captivated by Tatiana’s perfect features as he was around Palermo’s. His eyes simply sprouted an intelligence that Berlin couldn’t tear himself away from.

Berlin spun the wedding ring between his fingers and had to admit to himself that _maybe_ there was a part of him that still felt attracted to Palermo. Not that it meant anything. It wasn’t fair to compare his relationship with Palermo to that of Tatiana. He’d known Tatiana for a fraction of the time he’d been friends with Palermo. It was only natural to care more about him than his wife.

Berlin got up to put the ring on the desk and walked over to sit on the side of his bed. Looking at the ring lying abandoned on the desk, Berlin realized he was ready to lose Tatiana if he had to. If one day she no longer loved him, he wouldn’t stop her from leaving. He could move on, like he’d done four times in the past already.

Yet, losing Palermo seemed incomparable to that of his wives. Picturing a life without Palermo was as unimaginable as creating a new colour. It was simply impossible. But there was no reason for Palermo to leave him. They’d been friends for years and nothing had ever gotten between them.

The only thing that had ever threatened their relationship had been their game. Berlin thought they had both moved past it; he still couldn’t understand why Palermo had told Sergio he loved him.

For a brief moment, Berlin let himself think of the impossible. What if Palermo really was in love with him? Would it change anything between them?

_No._

He’d made it clear to Palermo that he wasn’t interested in him. Palermo had tested his limits many times and Berlin was certain he wouldn’t try to cross them again. Not without Berlin’s encouragement anyway.

A smile stretched over Berlin’s face and he licked his lips unconsciously. Palermo didn’t _love_ him. It was impossible to love someone you know you’d never be with. Palermo could only love the idea of Berlin.

Berlin felt immense relief at the realization. He felt safe. Reassured. Berlin was so sure of himself and his explanation that he let his thoughts trudge over dangerous territory.

His brother had said Palermo confessed his feelings to him, but he’d never told Berlin Palermo’s exact words. Had he told Sergio he was in love with Berlin? That he loved Berlin? That he’d fallen for him? _I fell in love with your brother._ No, that didn’t sound like something Palermo would say.

_I love him._

Berlin could clearly imagine the way his lips would stretch around those three little words. His green eyes would shine and his entire face would light up with a smile. Berlin would grab him by the front of his shirt and pull him into a kiss. A real one, one that wouldn’t leave any doubt about how either one of them felt. He’d let his tongue slide into Palermo’s mouth, grab his ass with one hand and start unbuttoning his shirt with the other. Palermo would sink to his knees, unzip his pants and wrap his wet lips around Berlin’s…

Berlin opened his eyes, not realizing he’d closed them in the first place. He did his best not to look down between his legs or to touch anything. He was overly aware of his own heart beating wildly against his chest, his fantasy of Palermo playing in continuous snippets in his mind.

Berlin took a look around the chapel, hoping to distract himself. His gaze fell back on the wedding ring still sitting on the desk. If Berlin needed any proof to sort out his feelings, his hard cock and guilt were making an evident case.

_It wouldn't change anything_.

Even if he did love Palermo, Berlin was a married man and Palermo his best friend. Berlin wasn’t going to put two of his most important relationships at stake for this.

He was happy with the way things were. Telling Palermo he might actually love him would only mess things up between them. Especially since Berlin was slowly beginning to realize that he might have loved Palermo right from the start, back when Berlin had made it indisputably clear to Palermo that he could never feel something for him.

Berlin’s throat tightened and he suddenly felt very sick. Even if he wanted to tell Palermo, Berlin _couldn’t **.**_ All the feelings he’d been trying to bury, were just that, buried. And when something is left unattended for too long, its condition tends to worsen until, one day, you’re trying to plant a flower and your shovel digs out a rotten, mud-covered bone instead. There was no way Berlin could tell Palermo the truth. They were friends. Best friends. There were only so many names on a list of people Berlin didn’t want to lose and Palermo’s was at the top, right below Sergio’s.

It was better to just leave things the way they were. If Palermo truly loved the idea of him, then he would continue to do so. By loving him back, _physically_ , Berlin would actualize the idea, and once something was real, it was bound by limitations. Palermo’s unconditional love would turn conditional. Their dynamic would change. His imaginary expectations of Berlin would be compared to Berlin’s actual behaviour. Palermo had idolized their relationship and Berlin would never be able to live up to it. He could never give Palermo the love he deserved.

*


	3. Chapter 3

**Past**

They fought their way through the crowd exhibiting mass panic. The alarm was still ringing loudly, piercing Berlin’s ears and drowning out the fearful screams that echoed through the hall. The power hadn't been restored yet. Everything was still dark, except for one bright, red exit sign that everyone was running toward.

As Berlin and Palermo got closer to the exit, the sound of police sirens became louder and louder. With a forceful blow, the door was pushed opened and the first police officers stormed inside the building, pointing their big, blinding flashlights in people's faces and yelling at everyone to remain calm.

“Hear that, Martín? You’re supposed to stay calm, the friendly neighbourhood police are here to take care of you.” Berlin somewhat wished one of the policemen would point his flashlight at him, just so Palermo could see the mischievous grin currently on his face.

They were standing right underneath one of the alarm systems, stuck behind a lump of screaming, confused people trying to leave the building as fast as possible. The pain of the alarm system felt similar to a scalpel being forced through Berlin’s eardrums. This was always his least favourite part. The pain and ringing in his ears that he was sure to endure over the next few days.

The alarm drowned out most of Palermo’s response, but Berlin was able to pick up the words “kill” and “fuck you” and, frankly, those gave him enough context to understand Palermo’s current feelings toward him.

To Berlin’s frustration, the crowd wouldn’t budge and they were stuck under the god-awful alarm system. Like sardines in a can, they were all pushing and pulling against each other, trying to fight their way out.

“No one is leaving the premises! I repeat, no one is leaving the premises. Please remain calm.”

Berlin swore under his breath while the officer’s voice continued booming through the megaphone. He hadn’t left the building fast enough and now they were under lockdown. He’d fucked up his entire plan because he’d wanted to see Palermo’s reaction to losing their little competition. Berlin was seldom this careless.

“C’mon.” He felt Palermo’s cold hand grab his, pulling him to the left-wing and away from the crowd.

Berlin followed him down the stairs and around the corner, thinking Palermo was leading them to another exit downstairs. Berlin stopped abruptly when he realized where Palermo was taking him. They were in an abandoned hallway, the blue sign of a little male figure was shining dimly over a wooden door.

“Do you really need to hold my hand while you take a piss? Couldn’t you have waited until we were out of here?”

“I’m an amateur, remember? I can’t hold my bladder when I’m nervous.” Palermo’s voice was dripping with sarcasm.

For some reason, neither one of them had let go of the other’s hand yet and Berlin used the opportunity to flick his wrist, twisting Palermo’s arm and pinning him against the wall.

“What are you up to?” Berlin asked harshly. The growl in his voice clearly implied that he was done fucking around. This was a robbery after all. Berlin had just stolen 1.5 million euros. He needed to get his shit together, find a way to leave this place and get the necklace.

Palermo, however, hadn’t been involved in the theft. As far as the law was concerned, Palermo was still innocent and had nothing to lose. He could rat Berlin out if he wanted to. Berlin didn’t know how it had happen, but suddenly Palermo was the one in control of the situation.

“I thought you wanted to blow me,” Palermo admitted in faux innocence, still pinned against the wall. His mocking response earned him Berlin’s knee being smashed into his stomach.

“I’m not asking you again,” he threatened. He was running out of time, goddammit.

It took a few seconds for Palermo to stop heaving. “Jesus fucking Christ, relax. Just come to the restroom with me and you’ll find out.”

He was playing him. Berlin felt like he was in a soccer game with no jerseys and no indication of which player was on what team. He was barely keeping the ball away from his enemies but didn’t know what passing it to Palermo would do.

As if he could read his thoughts, Palermo spoke again. “Andrés, you can trust me. I know how to get us out of here and away from the police.”

Berlin lowered his grip. His eyes had adjusted enough to the dark to see the familiar glimmer in Palermo’s eyes, daring him to come with him.

“Why on earth would I trust an egocentric piece of shit like you?”

Palermo's laughter was carefree and winning. “Because you’re going to give me half a million in return for it.”

*

* * *

**Present**

There was a soft knock on the door. _Knock. Knock-knock._ Three times. It had to be Sergio. Berlin didn’t particularly feel like talking to his brother right now.

“Go away,” Berlin growled. He didn’t want Sergio to see him like this. His knuckles were cracked open and dirty with dried blood, plus his thoughts were an absolute mess.

This was all Sergio’s fault anyway, he was the one who’d forced Berlin to think about his feelings for Palermo.

*

“I don’t want to talk to you,” Berlin stated matter-of-factly when Sergio was unsolicitedly sitting across from him at the table.

“That’s okay, you just have to listen.”

Berlin smiled sardonically. He had a gut feeling that this conversation was going to end with him wanting to kill his brother.

“It’s about Martín,” Sergio said, confirming Berlin’s assumption. Sergio pushed his glasses back and looked at Berlin expectantly.

He could feel the blood rushing through him and the anger within him slowly beginning to stir in the pit of his stomach. However upset he was, Berlin had to remain calm on the outside for the sheer sake of keeping control of this conversation and hopefully bringing it to a quick end.

“I don’t want to hear it.”

“Andrés, he _cannot_ be part of this plan.”

One of the worst attributes of his brother was his stubbornness. If he wanted to talk to him about Palermo, Sergio would do it, even if it took them all night. Berlin could put a gun in his brother’s mouth right now and it still wouldn’t get him to shut up. Still, it was worth a try to dissuade him.

“Sergio, for the last time. I don’t want to talk about it. I’ve thought about it enough today already.”

“You have?” His tone was dubious and begging for an explanation.

Berlin sighed. His knuckles were still painful to move and now his hands had started shaking again. He tried not to wince, focusing on his next words. “Of course I’ve thought about it! You’re the little genius in the family, it’s my duty to listen to your every word and obey you like a good soldier.”

Triumphantly, he watched Sergio pick up a piece of paper and start folding it. His brother was concentrating on his next move, which won Berlin a few minutes of quiet to gather his own thoughts.

“Martín is unpredictable-“

“Yes, we’ve already had this conversation,” Berlin cut him off, knowing full well just how much Sergio hated being interrupted.

Sergio exhaled sharply. “He will not follow the plan.”

“Yes, he will.”

He could see the vein on Sergio’s forehead bulging out. His first sign of anger. Good, Berlin wanted him to storm out of here.

Sergio took another break to steady his breathing and rethink his strategy. In silence, Berlin watched Sergio’s skillful fingers creasing each fold precisely until the paper airplane came to life. Both their eyes followed the plane as it soared across the room and landed gently on Berlin’s bed.

Visibly calmer now, Sergio tried to start the conversation up again. This time, he tackled a new approach: “Okay, then let me put it this way. If Martín and you were in the mint together, would he risk his life for you?”

“Of course he would. I would do the same.” Berlin trusted Palermo as much as he trusted Sergio. He would sacrifice his life for both of them and knew they wouldn’t hesitate to do the same. If this was going to be Sergio’s new tactic, he needed to up his game.

“Good. Now, if you and someone else got hurt in the mint, who would Martín choose to save?”

_Shit_. Berlin was beginning to get an idea of where his brother was getting at with this and he did not want to think about it, let alone talk about it in his current state of mind.

He pursed his lips and defiantly started playing with the playmobile figures on the table. The diver was swimming quickly away from the shark, attacking him swiftly. Berlin ripped the diver's arms off and made the shark eat both of them before Sergio finally ran out of patience.

“Andrés, I will not leave this room until you answer my questions.”

Berlin shot him a faux grin. “Great, we can have a sleepover just like when we were kids! What,” Berlin widened his eyes in mock indignation, “don’t you like the idea?”

“Stick to the topic.”

“You answer my question, I answer yours.”

“No, I would not like a sleepover. You always hogged the blankets and took up most of the bed.”

“Well, I was bigger than you. Naturally, I needed more space.”

Sergio rolled his eyes. “I believe it’s your turn to answer my question.”

“I’m hurt you think so little of our fond childhood memories. I personally think back on them very dearly.” Berlin could tell he was treading a thin line now and that pushing Sergio’s annoyance would not be in Berlin’s best interest. “Ugh, fine. He would save me. Don’t tell me that if I was the one hurt, you would really save some random thief you picked up off the streets over your own brother?”

Sergio was silent. He took the armless diver out of Berlin’s still shaking hands and reclipped the arms back to its body.

“Am I the shark in this or the diver?” Berlin asked quietly, nodding at the toys. “Seeing as the diver lost his arms to the shark, I’m assuming you had to kill the shark to retrieve them.”

“You’re the diver,” Sergio mumbled, ashamed to have admitted to bias in his perfect plan.

“Then why is it so bad if Martín would do the same?”

“ _Because_ , Andrés. If, let’s say,” Sergio picked up another playmobile figure, a police officer. Confused, Berlin watched as his brother ripped the diver’s arms out again. “If this police officer is one of our guys-“

“Am I still the diver?”

Sergio exhaled annoyed but nodded. “Yes, you’re still the diver and you’re injured. You’ve just lost both of your arms.”

“In what scenario would I lose both arms? I thought they made money with a printing press, not a cotton gin.”

“Andrés, let me finish!” Sergio snapped, and Berlin bit down a smile. He couldn’t help himself, he rarely got Sergio railed up like this. It was entertaining to watch.

“Scusi, professore,” Berlin held up his hands in innocence. “Continue.”

“If you got injured and the shark ate your arms. Do you honestly think Martín wouldn’t do this?” Sergio ripped both arms off the police officer and reattached them to the diver.

“Well, I mean, if I had no arms and the other guy two. Wouldn’t it be nice to share the second arm?” Berlin purposely played dumb. He understood Sergio’s point perfectly, reluctantly agreed with it, and knew it imposed a major threat to their plan.

“Andrés! Don’t tell me he wouldn’t sacrifice everyone to save you. He will disregard the entire plan the moment you get hurt.”

“Then I won’t get hurt.”

“We can’t guarantee that!”

He was right. Berlin didn’t know how to argue his point anymore. He wanted Palermo by his side on this heist. Needed him to be there with him. Palermo deserved to take part in it.

“Sergio, what makes you think I wouldn’t throw the plan away to save his life?” Berlin asked quietly, finally voicing the question that had been torturing his mind over the last few hours.

“Because you will lead him straight into his deathbed! We cannot stray from the plan if we want everyone to come out alive. I trust you to not betray the plan for him, but I don’t trust Martín to. He adds too much risk to the plan, Andrés. He will die to save you and he’ll take down everyone else with him in the process. I’m sorry, but he cannot go into the mint with you and that’s final.”

Berlin smashed the playmobile figures against the table and watched as some plastic pieces broke off and fell onto the floor. “And how am I supposed to tell him that, huh? What could I possibly say that would stop him from coming with me?”

Sergio's brown eyes looked at him calmly, _determined_. He didn’t need to reply to his brother’s question.

Berlin knew what he had to do. He just wished there was another way to break the news to Palermo.

*


	4. Chapter 4

**Past**

Berlin stared at Palermo, completely dumbstruck and boiling with anger. He tried to keep his composure and started clapping slowly. “This is your idea? To climb out of a goddamn window? Congratulations, you’ve just won the Worst Escape Plan of the Year award.”

“Oh I’m sorry, is the idea too simple for your grandiosity?”

Berlin stayed quiet. Truth be told, he didn’t know why he hadn’t thought of it himself. Petulantly, he almost wished they would get caught now, just so Palermo wouldn’t be right.

The window was short in height but wide, build on the edge of the wall so that it was almost touching the twelve-foot-high ceiling. A streetlight shone right through the window and offered enough light for Berlin to take in his surroundings. He checked the stalls -made sure they were empty- and then tried to find something they could use as a ladder to reach the window. The sinks were located by the door and the stalls were lined up on the opposite side of the wall. Both were too far from the window to be of any use to them.

“Give me a lift, I’ll open the window and pull you up,” Palermo ordered and Berlin grit his teeth. As soon as they were out of this building, he would kill Palermo. This was supposed to be his robbery. _His plan_. How could something become so immensely fucked up that he was the one following orders now?

He almost broke his own knuckles trying to suppress his anger while Palermo’s sole stepped brutish on his entwined hands. _At least his shoes aren’t dirty_ , Berlin tried to find something positive in this goddamn disaster of a night.

Palermo put his entire weight on him as he tried to fiddle the window open. Berlin’s arms started to shake from the effort and it was becoming increasingly difficult to hold Palermo steady.

“The fucking knob is stuck. Stop moving, Andrés, I can’t reach!” Palermo complained, ungracefully swinging his body back and forth and not at all keeping his balance. Berlin wanted to drop him and watch his skull smash against the bathroom tiles.

“Why don’t you just step on my shoulders?” Berlin snarled sarcastically, his last thread of patience finally snapping. “You’re this close to breaking my knuckles, so why stop there? In fact, why don’t I just let you trample all over my body?”

“Relax, cariño. This was always supposed to be a two-men job, remember?” Palermo grinned down at him. It took Berlin a second to realize he was using his own words against him.

He'd enough of this. Berlin forcefully threw his hands up and untwined his fingers, not a single care left in his mind to worry about the consequences. Palermo tumbled, fell right on Berlin, and crushed them both to the ground.

Berlin felt indifferent to the immediate pain that rushed through his body as his back hit the marble tiles. Palermo landed right on top of him, strands of hair getting caught in Berlin’s mouth, and his butt resting warmly against Berlin’s thigh. For a brief second, Berlin did not move, enjoying the way Palermo’s body felt on his.

The next second, Berlin got back to his senses and got up, pushing Palermo forcefully to the side.

“What? I thought you wanted to cuddle.” Palermo grinned up at him, spreading his legs seductively on the ground.

“I’m afraid I’m a bit picky about my lovers,” Berlin retorted and casually checked the time on his watch, feigning nonchalance. He was quickly gaining his composure back and wanted to take control of this situation again. “You see, if I allow someone’s head to go between my legs, I’d like to have a little bit of brain in it. And you, as an imbecile incapable of performing such simple tasks as opening a window, sadly don’t qualify.”

Palermo scrambled back to his feet. “Well, the task isn’t all that simple when your learning tower keeps shaking you.”

“Don’t blame me for your lack of balance,” Berlin retaliated weakly. He was getting tired and bored of this robbery. His plan had been to make a quick entrance, laugh in Palermo’s face, and leave as soon as Bogota had set the alarm off.

“Here,” he unwillingly felt Palermo’s arms wrapping around his neck from behind. “You can just lift me up this way.”

“Yes, because who wouldn’t flawlessly steal a ninety-carat necklace and then escape through a bathroom window piggyback style,” Berlin ridiculed, not sure if the mock was at himself, Palermo, or this night in its entirety.

As humiliating as it was, Berlin was running out of time and ideas, and so he wordlessly let Palermo climb up on his back and carried him a few steps over to the window so Palermo could easily reach.

It took a few seconds to get the knob unstuck, but eventually, Palermo was able to twist the knob of the window sideways and push outwards. Berlin had never welcomed a cool night’s breeze as much as he did right now.

“Now, put your legs on either side of the frame and pull me up,” he instructed.

“Oh is that how it works? You wouldn’t have a pen and paper on you so I could write it all down? I want to make sure I remember everything step-by-step. We don’t want me accidentally tumbling out of the window and leave you here alone, right?” Palermo taunted half-threateningly and then returned to his childish act, ruffling up Berlin’s hair as if he expected to find a pen in it. Berlin wanted to yell at him, but at this point knew his anger would be futile and only make Palermo’s dramatics worse. He couldn’t allow himself to lose any more time on this heist.

“Before we leave, I want you to know that,” Palermo stopped frantically pulling at Berlin’s hair and plucked at a few strands thoughtfully instead. “I’m normally not _that_ kind of guy. I prefer getting to know a person first, go out on a couple of dates, share a few stories before we start sneaking around in bathroom stalls. _But_ … I’m a man of little willpower, you can’t blame me for not being able to resist a ride like this one. Piggy-back. You think they cover that in the Kama Sutra?”

Berlin knew Palermo was just messing around. Still, the words did something to him, changed something inside of Berlin. All at once, he was overly aware of Palermo’s body on him. Muscular thighs pressed against his waist. Strong arms wrapped around his neck. Palermo’s face loomed over his head, he could feel his breath drifting through his hair. His crotch was perfectly positioned against Berlin’s lower back and Berlin swore he could feel the outline of Palermo’s dick pressing against him.

But before Berlin could think any deeper about the situation, Palermo’s legs peeled off him and he pushed himself through the window and away from Berlin’s body. Once he sat safely on the windowsill, he extended his arm and pulled Berlin up with him.

A few seconds later they both jumped, landing gracefully on a dumpster in a quiet side street.

“Do I get to claim my prize now?” Palermo demanded playfully, but his eyes were carefully watching Berlin’s every move.

*

* * *

**Present**

Palermo was sketching at the table, sitting in the same chair that Sergio had sat in during their last conversation. Berlin watched him for a moment. It was rare to see Palermo so calm and focused on a task. He didn’t even look up once while Berlin was getting dressed in front of him.

“How do I look?” He asked, wanting those eyes trained back on him, jealous of Palermo’s notebook and the meticulous attention he gave it.

Palermo put the pen down and leaned back in his chair. His eyes skimmed over Berlin’s black dress pants and travelled up to the brown blazer, white dress shirt, and finally rested on Berlin’s clean-shaven face. “Powerful,” he said. “Bello.” His Argentinian accent came out strong in the second word. Berlin enjoyed hearing the sound of it.

He loved having Palermo compliment him, never grew tired of his adoration for him. _And how am I supposed to tell him that?_ His conversation with Sergio unwillingly crossed his mind. He didn’t want to do this now but knew if he couldn’t do it tonight, he’d never be able to.

“Martín. You’ve been going around for years and years carrying this bug inside of you.” Berlin took a step forward. He definitely had Palermo’s undivided attention now.

Berlin had no idea where he was going with his speech, but as long as he didn’t show Palermo how he really felt, he didn’t think the conversation could go wrong. He just had to lie with enough confidence that even Palermo would believe him. Palermo, his best friend, who could read his thoughts like an open book. Whose mind complemented his in a way that made it impossible to betray him. What the hell was Berlin doing?

His voice was still steady, his steps sturdy, while his mind began wavering. Why was he walking toward Palermo? The closer he got, the easier it would be for Palermo to read his face and uncover the truth.

“I think it’s about time you took it out.”

“I can take out some wine if you’d like,” Palermo interfered smoothly, aware of how tense the atmosphere had suddenly become and wanting to bring the mood back to how it had been: peaceful, intimate, undisturbed. He pulled out a bottle from behind the chair. “Shall we have some?”

Berlin’s stomach twisted into knots at the sight. It was one of the leftovers from the wedding. “No, I’m not going to drink that wine with you.” Tonight’s conversation was not beckoning for celebration.

He couldn’t do this, didn’t know how he was supposed to tell his best friend goodbye tonight. _What makes you think I wouldn’t throw the plan away to save his life too?_

He stopped walking toward Palermo, deciding to abort this mission at once.

As if his body knew better than his mind, the words rolled themselves smoothly off his tongue on their own: “I’m going to have dinner with Tatiana.”

He wanted to leave, clear his head, and plan the course of this conversation better out before he tried to tackle it again.

Palermo saw the conflict in his eyes and could hear the need in Berlin’s voice to put an end to this conversation. But he was interpreting it all wrong and taking it as a personal rejection. Palermo turned away from Berlin and chose to dedicate himself back to his sketch.

Maybe he couldn’t read Berlin all that well after all. H _e will die to save you and he will take down everyone else with him._ But what if he didn’t? What if Berlin didn’t know him as well as he thought he did either? _Then you will give yourself up to him and he will leave you._ Berlin had already made that mistake once. He needed to be the first one to leave this time.

“You’ll think about me,” Berlin was a good liar. He was spectacular at portraying false emotions. This was just a part of the heist. He just needed to keep his poker face on and convince Palermo he held a full house. That his cards weren’t merely a pair. “But I won’t think about you.”

Palermo lifted his head again, completely forgetting about his sketch. He stared at Berlin in disbelief, trying to understand what was happening. They never spoke like this to each other. They completed each other, there was no point in causing pain. Each compliment Palermo gave him, Berlin returned with a smile on his own and the naked admiration in his eyes for his genius. There was no room for self-inflicted pain in their relationship. They’d made sure of that years ago.

But Berlin wasn’t doing this to punish Palermo. _You will lead him straight into his deathbed._

Palermo put the cap back on his pen, wanting to put an end to this conversation as badly as Berlin did. “You don’t have to spell it out for me, I get it.” But Palermo _didn’t_ get it and it made something inside of Berlin ache. _He could never give Palermo the love he deserved._ But he couldn’t let Palermo leave without at least trying to make him understand first either.

“You don’t think I love you? I feel it too. There’s something between us, something _extraordinary,_ unique, marvellous.”

 _You’re supposed to lie to him._ Berlin couldn’t let Palermo leave without admitting at least a portion of the truth. He deserved to hear at least some of it.

“I know about love. I’ve been married five times.” And what he wouldn’t give to lose Tatiana over Palermo tonight. “What I’ve never told you is-” he stopped and watched as Palermo uncrossed his legs, spread them wide apart and leaned against the back of the chair, attentively listening to Berlin’s farewell speech. He wanted nothing more than to take his place on Palermo’s lap that he was openly offering to him now. Had been offering to him this whole time. “None of these women, ever made me feel something remotely similar to what I feel with you.” _None made me dream in ways I did with you_. “Not even close.”

Palermo kicked his chair back and got up, no longer looking up to Berlin but standing eye-to-eye. Berlin needed to stop this. His words were straying further and further away from saying goodbye.

“You and I,” Berlin couldn’t stop. His lips formed the words and spoke themselves. “We’re soulmates.”

 _By loving him back physically, the idea becomes actualized and bound by its moral limitations._ But their love was greater than that, wasn’t it? That’s what Tatiana’s love was for. It could please him, satisfy him, extinguish over time when their love had reached its limitations. But his love for Palermo would never cease. There were no limits. Berlin felt a lump forming in his throat.

_What could I possibly say that would stop him from coming with me, Sergio?_

“But just by 99%. I really like women. I like them a lot,” Berlin laughed, boasting false confidence, that diminished instantly when Palermo stayed quiet. He just looked at him, as if he could visibly see the mask that Berlin had drawn over his face, as if he was planning his next move to rip the façade off. Berlin’s plan wasn’t working.

“And you like me too much,” he added harshly.

Palermo quickly crossed the remaining distance between them. “And what’s that one percent against ninety-nine, huh? Unless you’re not brave enough to try it.”

“That one percent,” Berlin looked straight into Palermo’s eyes, “is my desire.”

*


	5. Chapter 5

**Past**

“Did you plan this?” Berlin asked, scrutinizing the dumpster. It was conveniently placed right underneath the window they had jumped out of. The thought hadn’t occurred to him until now, but looking back, Palermo _had_ stalled him, had dragged him straight to the bathroom and had effortlessly found his way around the building in the dark.

“Which part?” Palermo grinned at him, his voice giving nothing away that Berlin didn’t already know.

“You should take credit for your accomplishment. It’s not every day that someone competes against me as well as you did.”

“I don’t know if _compete_ is the right word for it,” Palermo mustered, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “You didn’t really get to play much. I did all the work while you just stood there offering me your hand.”

Berlin laughed. Relieved to find that Palermo was bluffing. “Why don’t I let you lead the way to the necklace then? I’m assuming you know where it is, seeing how you were the one doing all the work to get it.”

Palermo’s smile didn’t falter but some of the arrogance in his stance visibly diminished. “Don’t you want to contribute at least a little bit? I’m sure if you try your best, you’ll still get to put your name on the participation trophy.”

Berlin clasped a hand on Palermo’s shoulder, pushing him to start walking in the right direction. Now that they were finally outside, he didn’t want to waste any more time standing around chatting. “I give you a word of advice, Martín, from master to student that is. Don’t try to compensate for your lack of skill with overconfidence. It was pride that changed angels into devils, after all.”

“You need to stop underestimating me.”

Berlin pursued his lips. Whether Palermo knew it or not, he was right. Berlin should have been a lot more cautious with him tonight. “It seems as if I’m learning on the go.”

Palermo adjusted his step ever so slightly so that his waist brushed against Berlin’s. “You’re more of a hands-on learning type of guy, huh?” Green eyes flared up daringly and flickered to his mouth. Berlin ran his tongue over his lips inadvertently.

Berlin hadn’t lied. He was an experiential learner and knew better now than to fall for Palermo’s distractions again. The two cut around the corner onto the main street and Berlin immediately caught sight of the parked police car only a few steps away from them.

“I hope our donut-loving friend over there isn’t part of your meticulous plan,” Berlin noted sourly, careful not to quicken his walk or change his demeanour as they got closer and closer to the car.

To his dismay, Palermo just laughed his question off. Berlin watched in horror as the driver door to the car opened and a police officer stepped out and approached them.

“Buenas noches, señores.” The woman stopped in front of them, her eyes travelling up and down their formal attire. “Mind if I asked where you’re headed to?”

Berlin shot her a charming smile and opened his mouth, ready to sweet-talk his way out of this. It had been roughly fifteen minutes since the alarm had gone off. They were only a block away from the entrance to the jewellery show, both dressed in expensive suits. It would be difficult to convince her that they didn’t know of the show. Difficult, but certainly not impossible. Berlin always welcomed a challenge.

He did not, however, welcome Palermo speaking for him: “Why, we’re on our way back to the jewellery show, señora.”

It took every ounce of effort for Berlin to not curl his hands into fists. He was still smiling at the officer, but his teeth were clenched. He risked a quick glance at Palermo, wondering just what the fuck was going on in his mind.

The officer raised a questioning eyebrow, mistrusting Palermo and his words completely. “Why did you leave the show?”

Before the conversation could fall completely out of his control, Berlin quickly put an arm around Palermo’s waist and started speaking right away: “It’s a beautiful night for a romantic stroll, wouldn’t you say, officer?”

He was met with another dubious look from the cop and waited patiently for her to ask her next question. Berlin squeezed his grip around Palermo slightly, silently warning him to not even _think_ about a response. “Are you telling me that you left the show that people pay hundreds of euros to attend, to go for a walk in the middle of the night?”

She did not mention the robbery, which Berlin was glad for. He sent another shy smile her way, looking slightly embarrassed. “My dear mother gave us the tickets as a gift for my birthday last month. You see, I’m a great lover of the arts and it has always been a dream of mine to attend a show as prodigious and respected as this one. Unfortunately, we underestimated just how many people attended. Augustin gets a little bit claustrophobic around large crowds, so we decided to take a walk and get a bit of fresh air.” Berlin looked at Palermo lovingly before turning his head back to the officer.

“We didn’t do anything wrong, did we, policía?” Palermo asked, his voice quiet. Scared.

Both men held their breath as they watched the officer’s lips twist into a soft smile. “No, no. Of course not. I’m glad you’re feeling better. Enjoy the rest of your night, señores.”

*

“I know practice makes perfect, but there’s also a time and place for everything, Martín. So the next time we get stopped by the police, I would advise you to keep your mouth shut and let me do the talking.” Berlin tried to keep his voice level, but the words still came out vehemently. They finally reached the hotel where Berlin was supposed to have met Bogota almost half an hour ago. He hoped Bogota was still there and hadn’t run off somewhere with the necklace.

“You need to learn to let someone else take control over the situation for once, Andresito,” Palermo retorted, demonstratively holding the front door open for Berlin. “I had a perfect excuse ready to tell her.”

“I’m not sure I trust your definition of perfect.” Berlin stepped into the hotel and went straight to the elevator, pressing the button to go up. “Your tell is obvious, she would’ve caught on immediately.”

“What’s my tell?” Palermo asked. He seemed unnerved by Berlin’s comment and Berlin revelled in the slight agitation in Palermo's voice.

The elevator door pinged open and a family of four walked out, leaving the elevator empty behind them. Berlin was in no rush to answer Palermo’s question and waited until the door slid shut in front of them. He could feel Palermo’s eyes on him, impatiently begging him to continue to speak.

“You put too much attention on yourself. You set yourself apart from the rest, when what you really need to do is let them think you’re just like them. That you’re all just one happy family and that you’re all on the same side. A lie has to be simple and steer the centre of the story away from you. You don’t get to be the hero in a lie.” Berlin explained, “And you, my friend, boast way too much.”

To his surprise, Palermo didn’t immediately shoot a snarky comment back at him. It was quiet for a while, the elevator soundlessly pulling them up to the fourth floor.

“You have a tell too you know,” Palermo finally said when they reached the top floor and stepped out into the dining hall.

“And what would that be?” Berlin smiled at the hotel employee standing at the door and led Palermo through a row of empty chairs and tables. They crossed the hall and turned a corner to the right where they were met with another employee welcoming them to the hotel’s bar.

“What do I get if I tell you?”

“What makes you think I care even in the slightest about your opinion, let alone enough to give you anything in return for it?”

Palermo gave him a knowing look, a cocky grin spreading wide on his face. “You just did it again. You emotionally disassociate yourself from the topic.”

His answer made Berlin roar with laughter. “Maybe for our next robbery we can steal my psychiatric evaluation. It might make you rethink how much I actually care.”

But Palermo simply shook his head, dismissing Berlin’s comment. He seemed sure of his conclusion about him.

*

* * *

**Present**

“Where is the desire?” Palermo whispered. They were standing close, so close Berlin could feel Palermo’s breath on his lips. Gently, he lifted his hand and pressed his middle and index fingers against Berlin’s temple. “Here?”

Slowly, his fingertips slid down further. Berlin didn’t know whether his movements mirrored that of a gun or a romantic caress. Both thoughts sent shivers down his spine.

He was losing control of his body again. He needed to put an end to this. Berlin opened his mouth, ready to protest, ready to beg with his eyes for Palermo to stop.

But his eyes betrayed him. He could see his own wanton look reflected in Palermo’s. And Palermo knew him well- better than anyone. His fingers mercilessly continued gliding down Berlin’s face like columns in the midst of collapsing ready to crush Berlin if he didn’t escape and run _now._

“Relax. Don’t be afraid,” Palermo murmured, but Berlin couldn’t relax, and he was very afraid. It had taken him long enough to admit it to himself. His heart was pounding too fast for his thoughts to calm down. Palermo didn’t have to read Berlin’s mind to know how he felt; his hands were resting right on Berlin’s jugular veins, feeling the race of his heartbeat with the soft touch of a fingertip.

Palermo’s hands started to travel again, his right resting on Berlin’s shoulder, and his left hand wrapped behind the crane of Berlin’s neck. Berlin felt exposed _._ Naked. _He will leave you._ But in this moment, the thought didn’t seem possible, didn’t scare him as much as the alternative one did. Berlin’s eyes inadvertently fell on Palermo’s lips. _Relax._ Berlin could only give him a nervous smile.

Palermo’s hand went to play with the little strands of hair on his neck, waiting almost patiently, giving Berlin one last chance to pull away.

It was time for him to remove himself from the situation. To push himself away from Palermo and not give up control. His entire body felt shaky, and he couldn’t think, couldn’t move. All Berlin wanted was to surrender.

Palermo’s grip on his neck tightened. The pull toward him was forceful but not aggressive, sudden but eagerly anticipated. Berlin could have stopped him easily were he not frozen in place.

Palermo’s right hand moved away from his shoulder and clasped around his shoulder blade instead. He was being trapped in Palermo’s arms and all Berlin could do about it was not melt into the warm sensation.

Soft, wet, and without any hesitation Palermo crushed his lips against his with no resistance coming from Berlin. Obediently, Berlin opened his mouth and immediately felt the push of Palermo’s tongue exploring his own. Palermo’s stubble was scratching against his cheek, chafing his skin. His chest pressed tightly against his. Palermo’s hands were all over his back, exploring every muscle and bone he could find, feeling the change in Berlin’s body over the years.

Each touch was equally numbing and arousing. _He is unpredictable, Andrés._ Berlin had to summon all of his inner strength to not kiss him back, but resistance was growing nearly impossible with every slide of Palermo’s tongue.

As if he could hear Berlin’s internal struggle, Palermo pulled away. “Are you a coward?” He asked, his expression impossible to read.

Berlin didn’t react. Didn’t know what to do. What he wanted.

Palermo kissed him again but this time it was different. _Hesitant._ “Where is it, Andrés? Where is your desire?” His voice was low and husky and steering something in the pit of Berlin’s stomach. He wanted those lips back on his. Wanted to fuck his throat hoarse and dry. Wanted to remove this ridiculous amount of layers of clothing between them.

Berlin didn’t say any of that, half of him still scared of what would happen after. They could spend the night together but what about every other night following this one? _He will choose you over the plan._ Palermo tried to kiss him again, but Berlin craned his neck to avoid it. _You will lead him straight into his deathbed._

Palermo went to kiss him again, but this time, something made him stop himself and retract. Berlin could see the first wave of doubt in Palermo’s eyes.

 _Except that it wasn’t doubt_ , Berlin realized with a pang in his chest, _it was hur_ t.

As if a shock had gone through him, Berlin grabbed Palermo and pushed him up against the wall. Forgetting what he’d promised himself, forgetting every reason to not give in to this want, and remembering instead just how good it felt to have his tongue coaxing Palermo’s mouth open and feeling the warmth of Palermo’s lips pressed against his.

The moans Palermo made echoed in his own throat. Berlin explored every millimetre of his mouth, loving the way his tongue danced with Palermo’s. Each new touch went straight to Berlin’s dick. He wanted to spin him around, fuck him right here against the wall. Yet at the same time, Berlin wanted to take it slow and memorize every part of Palermo’s body.

Berlin could feel Palermo getting harder and harder against his thigh. His own dick was stiff and straining against his pants. They were both breathing heavily, hips shooting upwards, grinding messily against each other, every kiss tasting of absolute desperation and want.

In Berlin’s mind, he was already pushing Palermo onto the bed, ripping his clothes off, sinking his teeth into his flesh and devouring his body. He wanted to be inside of him, slam his hips against his ass, over and over again. Fuck in a way he’d never done before. Melt their bodies into one and complete each other. One hundred percent.

Berlin wanted this. Had wanted this for so long now. _We’re soulmates._ They owed this to each other.

His words to Sergio haunted him like a curse he couldn’t break. _What makes you think I wouldn’t throw the plan away to save his life?_ He didn’t want to think about this now. Not with Palermo right here. Not when Berlin had finally gotten the courage to allow himself this moment.

But could he really throw away his and Sergio’s lifework? Put the homage to their father, who’d died to save his brother’s life, in jeopardy? Was he really capable of any of it?

Berlin couldn’t guarantee Palermo’s safety once they were in the mint. It had taken him years to find a way to convince Sergio not to go in. He’d never be able to persuade Palermo to do the same.

Sergio was right. There was only one solution.

Berlin pulled back.

“It’s impossible.”

But it was the only way to keep Palermo and the plan safe.

*


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hola:) Present-wise this is the first chapter that's not steering towards a canon scene so I'm super excited to post this because I had no idea where I was going to take the story from here. Berlin's mindset at this point is a bit wanky so there's going to be some light symptoms of depression, a bit of violence, thoughts of substance abuse, etc. It's going to get a lot heavier and darker and I'll add a separate note to some of those chapters. I'm not a good judge when it comes to deciding what constitutes as a warning or not, so if you see anything else that you think should be a warning please let me know and I'll add it to the tags right away. Alsooo Berlin and Sergio grew up together and Berlin views Sergio's dad as his own dad, just thought I'd mentioned that because it's not explained til later on. Hope you enjoy this chapter ❤

**Past**

“Bogota, I cannot believe you. First, you tease me with the possibility of winning a date and then you steal my prom king away from me!” Palermo exclaimed jokingly and pulled Bogota into a warm hug.

They joined Bogota at the small booth, sitting on either side of him. “I still can’t believe you double-crossed us like that!” Palermo muttered, eyeing Berlin like it was his fault Bogota had played them. Berlin wasn’t thrilled about it either. He had specifically told Bogota he didn’t consider Palermo to be a good fit for the job, had blindly trusted Bogota when he’d promised he would personally help Berlin, and yet, here they were all three of them together meeting up at rendezvous point.

“You were the one who told Martín he could exit through the bathroom,” Berlin stated, finally putting all the pieces of information together.

Bogota laughed and shook his head. “Nah man, that was all Martín’s idea. I just grabbed the necklace for you and moved the dumpster for him. The rest was all you two’s doing.”

Berlin smiled in amazement at this confession. It all made sense now. “I was wondering why you’d agree to the job. I have to admit, I’m impressed.”

Bogota turned his face away at the compliment, his fingers started awkwardly playing with the label of the beer bottle in front of him. Berlin liked Bogota. He was always calm, quiet, _simple._ If you told him to do a job, he’d do it, no follow-up questions asked, and he was damn good at what he did.

“I told you he was good, didn’t I?” Bogota said to Berlin, nodding at Palermo who was trying to get the server’s attention.

“He didn’t get us killed if that’s what you mean.”

“ _I_ kept up morale and got us out of there,” Palermo grinned, but his smile wasn’t for Berlin, it was for the young server approaching their table. “A merlot, please.”

“And for you, señor?” The server asked, her blue eyes trained on Berlin. Berlin took in her curly black hair and plump lips. She was pretty. Curvy. Had it been any other night, Berlin might have been more charming toward her.

“Nothing for me, sweetheart.” He didn’t want to waste too much time at the bar. This night so far had been one big headache. Berlin just wanted to finally hold the necklace in his hands and get the hell out of Madrid.

Palermo comically threw his hands up in the air. “C’mon Andrés, we’re celebrating!”

“The celebration normally comes after you win the prize. Which reminds me,” Berlin turned his attention back to Bogota. “I believe you still have a little something that belongs to me.”

“It’s in my room in the place we agreed on.”

The bar was busy with people and the loud chatter and laughter served as a perfect noise buffer for them to hold their conversation in private. Still, it never hurt to be discrete. God knows Berlin hadn’t been as cautious as he should have been tonight.

“Excuse me, gentleman. I think I just found myself something new to steal,” Palermo slid out of the booth and winked at Berlin. “Spoiler alert, it’s a heart.”

Despite his better judgement, Berlin turned around to watch Palermo walk up to a tall, blond man, leaving Berlin alone with Bogota at the table.

The two of them stayed quiet for a while until the server returned with Palermo’s drink. Her face became distorted with confusion when she didn’t see Palermo in the booth. Not knowing what to do, Berlin could see her doubting herself. Her eyes darted to the beer bottle in Bogota’s hand and then to Berlin who was empty-handed. _Maybe he had been the one to order the drink._ Berlin could practically hear her train of thought and smiled when she placed the drink in front of him against her better judgement.

“Enjoy,” she smiled at him sheepishly and quickly left their table again.

Berlin twirled the wine in the glass, his eyes wandering back to Palermo who was now standing inches away from the other man. His hand was on the man’s lower back, a charming smile rested confidently on his face. Berlin wished he could see the man’s face as well. He wondered what he looked like from the front, interested to see if Palermo’s taste in men was as subpar as his taste in fashion.

“So he’s actually gay,” Berlin concluded, muttering the words more to himself than to Bogota. He’d been wondering about it ever since he’d first met Palermo. Had been curious whether their flirtations were real or just a game. Not that it still couldn’t be a game, of course. It didn’t indicate anything new, it just… didn’t rule out anything either.

“Yep. He’s almost as bad as you when it comes to talking about women,” Bogota laughed, but Berlin kept quiet, lost in thought. As if the memory had been permanently stamped into his brain, he could recall the exact way Palermo’s body had felt on his when they’d fallen onto the marble tiles together, or when Palermo had climbed up on his back and pressed his entire body against his…

“What? You have a problem with that?” Bogota barked, misinterpreting Berlin’s silence and ripping him out of his short-lived reverie.

“No need to get angry with me, Bogota. The only problem I have with Martín is his antics.”

“You know it’s rude to talk behind someone’s back.” Seemingly out of nowhere, Palermo reappeared behind him and slid back into the booth, choosing to sit next to Berlin this time.

“No luck?” Berlin grinned at him. Some part of him -deep down- was relieved to have Palermo back at their table. He almost wished they were sitting closer. Berlin resisted the urge to spread his legs just a little bit wider until their thighs touched.

“Turns out Bernard wasn’t my type, after all,” Palermo shrugged his shoulder. “His loss. I’m an excellent lover.” He scooted down further into the booth, allowing his head to rest against the back of it, spreading his legs with ease but still not enough to cover the space between his’ and Berlin’s thigh. Palermo closed his eyes for a second, then re-opened them quickly and laughed out loud. “I wonder where my wine’s at. Do you think the waitress forgot about it?”

“No, but she brought me this one and said it’s already been paid for. I suppose I’m taking all of your good luck tonight.”

Palermo sat up straighter, eyes twinkling with excitement. “Now that’s an interesting theory! I think we owe it to science to prove it. Did you want to try getting it on with Bernard too? Although, I must warn you, he’s a bit of a bore to listen to.”

Berlin had to bite back a smile. He knew fully well what Palermo was really asking. Berlin demonstratively took a sip of the wine. “I prefer our waitress over him. She’s proven to have better talent at giving me the drink I actually enjoy.”

“I beg to disagree. Don’t you know the famous saying? The tighter the bottle, the better the taste?”

Berlin almost choked on his drink. He tried to play it off but could hear both Palermo and Bogota laughing at him.

“Well in that case, let’s just go get the necklace and then you’re free to buy yourself as many bottles as you like,” Berlin said as smoothly as possible, not at all amused by the two men making fun of him.

“Agreed, I’ve been sitting here forever waiting for you guys.” Bogota drowned the rest of his bottle and pushed himself out of the booth.

On their way out, Berlin made sure to wave goodbye to their server, giving her a charming smile which she easily returned.

“Let’s go Romeo.” Berlin could feel Palermo’s hand on his lower back, pushing him toward the exit. Berlin didn’t mind the touch at all.

*

* * *

**Present**

Berlin had never felt so low in his life. Palermo’s tear-streaked face kept appearing and re-appearing in his thoughts. The way he just let himself slide so slowly onto the ground like a corpse. Like Berlin had killed him and he was now forever dead inside. _I wanted to melt gold with you._ Berlin repeated Palermo’s words soundlessly. His lips felt empty and useless.

It had gotten dark outside. The moon was faded behind grey clouds, offering little light into the alley. The cobblestone he was sitting on was making Berlin shiver. He wrapped his coat tighter around him, missing Palermo’s warmth on him. He could be back in the chapel right now, in his bed, with Palermo’s arm wrapped around him. That’s where he should be.

_What’s that one percent against ninety-nine? Unless you’re not brave enough to try it._

What if Palermo had been right? What if he was just a fucking coward? He was, after all, currently leaning against a dumpster that was covered in splurges of blood from where he’d punched it. Berlin felt weak, defeated, and for once, there was no one to blame for this other than himself. He could only remember one other instance in his life where he’d cried like this.

He’d jumped out of the principal’s office’s window and had run all the way to the hospital. Sergio had been sleeping and Berlin had climbed up into his tiny bed, shared his pillow and soaked it with tears and spit. Berlin’s entire body had trembled so badly it had woken up his younger brother. He remembered staring at the pulse oximetry on Sergio’s little finger, his eyes stinging, but his brother’s weak, skinny arms wrapped tightly around him, helping him breathe. It was the only time Berlin remembered ever completely losing himself. His own tears had made Sergio cry too. He hadn’t even been able to tell his brother why he was crying. One of the nurses had to tell Sergio of his father’s death the next day.

A shiver ran through Berlin, his hands had gone completely numb from the pain and cold temperature. He ought to go back home, but the responsibilities that would wait for him there made the alley a much more welcoming place. He had bailed on his date with Tatiana, had kicked Palermo out of his life, and he’d fought with Sergio. Even if anyone was waiting for him at the monastery, it would not be a pleasant interaction. Berlin tried not to care, but he was alone like a fucking homeless person in a back alley, so who was he keeping this act of indifference for?

_You’re hanging onto something that doesn’t exist and never will._ All the nasty lies he’d told Palermo were haunting him now. His own words stung him. Everything that Palermo had needed to hear needed to be said to Berlin as well. _We have to give up the plan._ He’d done the right thing. It had been the rational thing to do. But had the kiss really been necessary? Had it really been worth it to give in to his desires tonight?

On one hand, it had turned out to be an effective way to convince Palermo that Berlin didn’t want him, needed him to leave. Although, he would cherish the feeling of Palermo’s lips forever, the way his hips had rolled against his, the moans that had come out of his mouth. It had been straight out of a movie. The perfect way to say goodbye.

Yet, on the other hand, Berlin felt as if he’d tasted the forbidden fruit. There wasn’t anyone he felt as connected with as with Palermo. No one he loved more. And tonight he’d found out the extent of this love. There had been no doubts, no games between them this time. Berlin had finally been able to give himself to Palermo without holding back.

They had been so close to _making_ love, a term that finally made sense to Berlin. Love. Not sex, not fuck. They had connected as flawlessly physically as they did mentally. Their bodies pressing together like the feeling of pushing the last piece into a jigsaw puzzle. Entwined as one, they had completed the picture.

Berlin felt spoiled knowing he would never experience this bond with anyone else ever again. He could compare every kiss with Palermo’s lips, every touch with his hand, and nothing in the world would ever come close to what he’d felt tonight. John Stuart Mill had been wrong in his philosophy. Berlin wished he could go back to the state of a fool, unaware of what the world had to offer him and oblivious to the extent of happiness he could feel. _I’d give anything so I could feel this._ He wanted to feel indifferent to it all.

Berlin didn’t believe in karma, but the way his heart felt beaten and crushed encouraged him to reconsider. He felt as awful as he’d made Palermo feel, but then again, Berlin had expected to feel this pain from the start. _Now go away and heal your wounds._

Berlin should go back to the monastery. Him sitting here was pointless. His leg had fallen asleep and every other part of him felt frozen.

He was trying hard not to think about Palermo but couldn’t help but wonder what he was doing right now. Whether he was still packing his stuff up in the monastery or if he was already catching the first train out of Italy. But where would he go from there? Spain? France? The fact that Berlin didn’t know made him sick. And that was just it, wasn’t it? If Palermo was gone, Berlin would have no way of finding his way back to him. _But my brother was right, we have to part ways. Sometimes distance is the only way to find peace._

Berlin screamed into the night. The dumpster didn’t react, still stood as motionless as ever. A metal container incapable of feelings. Berlin punched it violently, got back up on his feet and kicked it. The wounds on his knuckles re-opened, fresh blood trickled over the dried crust that was already covering his hands in red. His feet hurt, his dress shoes were clearly not made for this. But Berlin welcomed the pain. It was physical, it was there. He could pin down exactly where it hurt. _I have to leave you, it’s because of love. I love you, Martín._ He’d meant every word of it.

Berlin wanted to fight. Have his head smashed into a wall. Wanted to blackout and not feel anything at all for a little while.

_I can take out some wine if you’d like_. The bottle was still back in the chapel, unless Palermo had taken it with him. Berlin stopped hitting the dumpster, breathing heavily, debating his next move.

Maybe he should go back. Tatiana would be there. He could get drunk and pass out in her arms. Have her treat his wounds and take care of him. Berlin didn’t want to be the one dealing with this pain anymore.

He wiped his hands on his pants to try and get at least some blood off them. If Tatiana asked about it, he would just tell her he’d been in a fight. It didn’t have to be a physical one.

The first streetlight he stumbled toward almost made Berlin reconsider his plan. His hands were covered in pieces of rust, dirt, and blood. Bruises formed around each knuckle and a long gash was below his right thumb. His clothes were in disarray, his shoes were broken. He couldn’t bear the thought of someone seeing him in this state. But where else was there to go?

The glaring light of the streetlamp enabled Berlin to make out the sign attached to the pole. He didn’t recognize the name and it only proved to him further how utterly lost he was.

*

Arguably the best thing about living in the monastery was the ease of finding it. It still took Berlin a while to figure out where he was, but once he’d gotten back on the main street, he was able to navigate himself home.

The walk was refreshing. It felt good to move with a purpose in mind again. The blood started circulating through Berlin’s body and warmth spread through his arms and legs. He felt slightly better, definitely good enough to keep his composure around the monks and Tatiana. He wasn’t sure what he would do if he ran into Sergio. _It was your brother who didn’t understand my love for you and tore us apart._ Berlin did not blame Sergio for what had happened. If there had been a way for Palermo to stay, Sergio would have been the one to find it. They both just did what had to be done.

As slim as the chance was, part of him hoped Sergio would still be there waiting for him. Berlin wanted to have someone to talk to about this, he didn’t want to have to bury this pain inside of him, even if he knew he’d never confide in Sergio about Palermo.

It had been difficult enough for Berlin to tell his brother about his condition. It had taken him months to muster up the courage to pick up the phone and invite Sergio over to the monastery. _I’ve been diagnosed with mom’s illness._ How was he supposed to tell his little brother, his only family left, that he was dying? One ugly conversation between them was enough, Berlin couldn’t talk to Sergio about Palermo. Sergio had been so close to calling the whole plan off. Berlin needed to convey a stable mindset for the heist, trick his brother into thinking he would die happy. That everything was fine. That tonight had been worth the sacrifice.

Unless Palermo was still at the monastery. Berlin didn’t know what he’d do then. But he knew Palermo well enough to rule out the possibility of it with near certainty. Palermo wasn’t the type to stick around when things got messy. If he found himself in a situation he didn’t like, he would leave. Berlin almost envied him. He wished he could abandon the monastery, go somewhere new and forget about it all.

*


	7. Chapter 7

**Past**

“There she is,” Bogota opened the safe and handed Berlin a white, rectangular box. “I’m not much of a jewellery guy, but I gotta admit this one’s damn beautiful to look at.”

Berlin opened the box eagerly and marvelled at what he found inside. Bogota was right, the necklace was even more stunning from up close. He picked it up carefully and lifted it between his fingers, holding it up against the artificial light. The thin platinum band sparkled livelily and the diamonds mimicked rows of tiny night skies. But it was the emerald that captured Berlin’s attention the most. _The purest crystal of the green-ray, similar to your eyes._ Berlin purposely avoided looking at Palermo, even if he desperately wanted to see his reaction to the necklace.

Palermo was obviously a bad influence on him, and not the kind Berlin usually enjoyed either. He was too headstrong, too unpredictable. He’d made Berlin act careless in too many different ways tonight. It was a good thing the two were only pulling this one heist together.

Berlin put the necklace safely back into the box, ready to leave. “Thank you, Bogota. You did an excellent job with this.”

“My pleasure. Can’t say I don’t like executing the plans you create. Some of them are true masterpieces, this one included.”

Berlin smiled bitterly, remembering everything that had gone askew tonight and blaming Palermo for almost all of it. “Well, I’m glad everything worked out on your end.”

“Next time you need help with a job, you call this guy okay? I’m not playing set up for you again.” Bogota nodded at Palermo.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Berlin’s smile was genuine, although the words _never again in a million years_ , did cross his mind.

*

“So what are you going to do with it now? Or are you still planning on giving it to your ex?” Palermo asked innocently, following him out of the hotel room.

Berlin knew Palermo was just trying to provoke him. All night Palermo had been trying to get Berlin to lash out and lose control so he could take over. Berlin smiled sardonically. Palermo was trying to play _his_ game and Berlin had zero intention of letting him win. Crushing Palermo seemed like a good parting gift.

“I believe that’s none of your concern.”

“It is if I don’t get my money.”

“Or what?” Berlin asked mockingly.

Palermo’s face darkened, his eyes no longer the bright emeralds Berlin had compared them to. A vicious shade of venom stared into Berlin’s brown eyes. “I won’t be as nice around you anymore.”

Berlin laughed carelessly and played with the box, tossing it from one hand to the other. “I don’t think you fully understand how this works, Martín. If you want something from a person, you’re supposed to _threaten_ them, not offer rewards for doing the opposite.”

Before Berlin could blink, he was pinned against the wall with Palermo’s hands holding him up on either side of his collar. “I want my fucking money, _Andrésito._ ” Berlin could feel Palermo’s breath on his face as he hissed the words.

He didn’t think Palermo had it in him to do anything drastic, not with Berlin having complete power over what would happen with the necklace. Berlin was the one with the expertise and the connections to sell it. Palermo needed his help if he wanted to get anything out of this job. “Scary,” Berlin said sarcastically, “Should I surrender now or is the show not over yet?”

The first punch landed in Berlin’s stomach. He gasped, not expecting the blow or the sheer force of it. Before Berlin could react, Palermo’s fist crashed against his jaw.

“How’s the show so far?” Another punch landed right below his ribcage.

“Breathtaking,” Berlin smirked. He tried his best not to heave as the next punch followed, this one back on his face again. He could taste blood on his lips. Tonight had taken yet another turn and become even worse than Berlin could have imagined.

He’d wanted Palermo to lose control over himself, yell at him, lightly punch him a few times like he’d done at the jewellery show. This was not the reaction he wanted from him.

Berlin was far from being a masochist. He didn’t mind taking a few punches here and there, but Palermo was straight up beating the shit out of him to the point where Berlin had difficulty breathing.

“Are you done yet?” Berlin asked quickly before Palermo could aim his fist at his face again. He didn’t want to fight Palermo, didn’t know if he would even win against Palermo in a physical fight. Berlin wasn’t much of a fighter to begin with. He thought of himself as too cunning to resort to using violence as a means of getting his way.

“Are you able to answer my question yet?” Palermo was breathing heavily against him.

Despite Berlin’s silence, Palermo slowly let go of him and took a step backwards.

“I’m a man of my word, Martín. I have ethics. If we pull a heist together, I will have your back until the job is over.”

“Give me the money then.”

Berlin laughed, causing his stomach to shoot up in pain. Palermo had definitely given him a few bruises. Carelessly, Berlin threw the necklace at Palermo. “She’s all yours.”

Confusion took over Palermo’s features as he caught the box. “No, no, no.” He shook his head and tried to push the box back into Berlin’s hands. “I don’t know anyone to sell it to. Andrés, you’re supposed to be the one in the jewellery business. This is still your part of the job.”

“The job was to get the necklace, which we did, and compensate you for your efforts -mild as they were- which I just did,” Berlin explained to him as if he was a child.

“What the fuck am I supposed to do with it?”

Berlin’s frown was a mocking one. “Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn.” With that, he turned around and made his way toward the elevator.

“Hold up!” Palermo yelled, ruining Berlin’s theatrical exit. “That heist you mentioned when we first met, is that still happening?”

Berlin stood still in the hallway, his back to Palermo. He’d forgotten about that part completely and had _clearly_ forgotten the resolution he’d made just minutes ago to never, _ever_ pull another heist with Palermo ever again.

Slowly, a smile spread across Berlin’s face. Maybe one more heist with Palermo couldn’t hurt. After all, what was the worst that could happen?

*

* * *

**Present**

Berlin felt like he’d been trying to swim back toward the shore for hours, and only now, as his hands wrapped around the entrance door of the monastery, could he finally feel the sand underneath his feet again.

He pulled the heavy wooden door open and headed straight to the bathroom. The sole of his right shoe was slowly beginning to peel off and he could feel the blisters that had formed on the heel with every step.

Berlin didn’t bother unlacing his shoes, simply kicked them off and threw them into the garbage. He didn’t know what to do with his clothes. They were dirty, but not torn. He could wash the bloodstains out of his pants. The blazer was one of his favourites, but Berlin doubted he would ever be able to wear it again; he probably wouldn’t put it back on if someone held a gun to his head. Berlin didn’t want to associate any other memory with this outfit but tonight’s. The kiss, the goodbyes, the downfall of it all. It was poetic in a way.

Berlin took off his jacket and opted for dropping it on the floor for now. He strode over to the big tub and rotated the tap until hot water started spurting out.

The rest of his clothes quickly followed his jacket while Berlin waited for the water to fill up the tub and the room to be covered in steam. Once he was fully undressed, Berlin dipped into the water, wincing at the hot temperature, but yearning to feel the heat on his skin. Carefully, he started to scrub off the blood and got rid of the layer of dirt and sweat covering his body.

*

Once clean and relaxed in the fresh warm water, his hand inadvertently wrapped around the base of his cock. He didn’t want to think about Palermo, but it was _so_ easy. Berlin could recall every touch as if they’d been rehearsing it for years, could mimic the exact path Palermo’s hands had taken across his body.

It was lust for Palermo that made Berlin’s fingers curl around his balls and give them a firm squeeze. His other hand started slowly stroking himself. His hips began to roll upwards. A moan escaped Berlin’s lips. It didn’t feel right, but he couldn’t get himself to stop. His grip on his dick only tightened.

He could practically hear Palermo’s gasps ringing in his ears and started stroking faster, his other hand running over the part of his thigh where Palermo’s hard dick had pressed against him just hours ago. He wanted those lips back on his, wanted Palermo’s hands and spit rubbing all over his cock.

Berlin could picture it almost too perfectly as he wiped some precum away with his thumb. Palermo would take his hand, suck each finger down one-by-one, just to tease him. He’d lower himself on him, bite into his flesh, along Berlin’s inner thigh, then lick over the wound. His stiff tongue would flick to the underside of Berlin’s dick, dance along his balls. He could see it all so clearly. Palermo’s hollowed out cheeks, red lips wrapping around the tip of Berlin’s cock, swallowing him down steadily, never losing eye contact as he sucked him off.

Berlin moaned quietly and lifted his hips. He’d jerked off like this many times before, filled his head with scenarios involving anyone from past lovers to faceless fantasies. It was easy to feel lust for someone; there was nothing special in this act. It felt almost blasphemous to use the bond between him and Palermo for something so ordinary. He was tarnishing the memory of the kiss, denigrating the loss he felt for Palermo until it was reduced to being prosaic.

Shame made Berlin’s chest flush and before he could change his mind, he jumped out of the water and hastily wrapped a towel around his waist. He needed to get his self-control back, Palermo leaving was no excuse for Berlin to start acting like a horny twelve-year-old jerking off in a bathtub. He was a grown-ass married man for fuck’s sake.

Barefoot and blue-balled, he left the bathroom and made his way toward the chapel, passing Palermo’s room in the process. The door was left ajar; an odd thing for Palermo to do. He was too particular to not shut it properly on his way out.

Despite his better judgement, Berlin pushed the door open and stepped inside Palermo’s room.

Before they had moved into the monastery, this room had served as the tapestries room. Berlin, for once, didn’t marvel at the series of stories each tapestry told, or the amount of detail woven into each tree and flower depicted. He didn’t care for the monumental fireplace and its elaborate stone carvings. All Berlin had eyes for were the clothes thrown carelessly on the renaissance folding chairs. The bed unmade. Untouched.

His gaze fell on the round, wooden table in the centre of the room. Next to the half-burnt candle were Palermo’s notes and sketching pens. Unmoved.

Abandoned?

Confused, Berlin inspected the rest of the room. Nothing seemed to have changed. _As if he hadn’t left at all_. But that was impossible. There was no way Palermo was still here.

Berlin tried not to get his hopes up, but he needed to be sure. There was only one thing that Palermo would never leave without.

Berlin ran out of the tapestry room, flung the door to the chapel open and pulled out the box behind the desk.

It was gone. Along with Palermo’s fake passport and the emergency stack of money.

Berlin didn’t know what he’d anticipated to feel. It wasn’t disappointment; the possibility of Palermo still being here had been small to begin with. He wasn’t sad either. Every last fragment of hope had been crushed, Palermo had taken all necessary assets with him. Berlin had nothing to worry about, nothing left to expect. He felt empty. Numb. He put the cover on the box and put it back in its place.

All of a sudden, tiredness took over his body. He felt heavy, exhausted. Berlin carried himself over to the bed and laid down on his back, staring blankly up to the ceiling, every bit of energy sucked out of him. He couldn’t think clearly, yet was unable to fall asleep. He briefly wondered where Tatiana was. He wouldn’t mind her company right now and feel the warmth of her body beside his.

Berlin felt defeated. He thought about the plan on the mint and ridiculed it immediately. It would be impossible to execute. Berlin in charge of, what? sixty plus people? It would take an unimaginable amount of effort. He couldn’t even fucking take care of himself anymore.

His stomach churned, reminding Berlin that he’d skipped out on supper. Maybe if he ate something he’d feel better, but the idea of consuming any food made his throat constrict. He couldn’t even fucking feed himself anymore.

All Berlin could do was lay on this bed and not move.

To him, the situation didn’t seem all that bad. There wasn’t anything left that Berlin wanted to do anyway.

*


	8. Chapter 8

**Past**

“I have to say I’m impressed.” Palermo’s eyes were shining with fascination. He’d become increasingly happier and excited the more Berlin had told him about the heist. It was intriguing to see him like this. Berlin couldn’t get enough of it and, as a result, had given Palermo a few more details about the plan than he’d initially intended to.

“So can I consider you an official part of the team? You have to let me know soon so I can get the t-shirts printed.” Berlin was thrilled to work with Palermo on this. He’d given Berlin some valuable notes as he’d explained the heist to Palermo. They could use someone with his knowledge on their side.

“Depends what my job in all this would be. I’m assuming it’s a tad too early in the plan to start shooting at things.”

“First we need to develop a way to get a tunnel from the mint to the hideout. Bogota told me you have some good experience in this field.”

“He flatters me,” Palermo winked at him jokingly. “But yes. I got a degree and everything if you want to run a background check and call up some reference.”

Berlin laughed, “My brother might.” He wouldn’t put it past Sergio to ask for these things. Sergio could be overly paranoid sometimes.

Palermo leaned back in his chair and folded his hands behind his head. “Does that mean I get to meet the family already? We’re so early in our relationship, Andrés, I feel like we’re rushing into this.”

He looked beautiful like this. The lit candle on the table was contouring his face perfectly, making his eyes shine, and highlighting the thin, wet layer on his bottom lip. Berlin’s tongue ran over his own lip at the sight.

They had found an abandoned restaurant outside of Madrid to stay in overnight. The police were still checking highways and airports, stopping random people on the street in a desperate attempt to retrieve the necklace.

Originally, Berlin had planned to leave the city right away, but seeing how most of the heist’s timeline had been pushed back, it seemed safest now to just stay low and wait the situation out. He’d been reluctant at first to have Palermo here with him, but as it turned out, Palermo was making the waiting game less tedious and boring. It was actually nice to have someone here with him. Talking about the heist and bouncing ideas off each other had made the last few hours pass by like it was nothing.

It also helped that Palermo was slowly beginning to lose some of his childish acts around him. The more they talked about the plan, the more serious Palermo had gotten. They were no longer just profane, snarky remarks meant solely to provoke Berlin, but some of Palermo’s comments actually held merit. Berlin almost enjoyed talking to him, exchanging ideas with him, imagining the impossible together...

“So whose idea was this, anyway?” Palermo was asking him now, referring to the plan.

“Have you ever heard of Christopher Booker?”

“Is he the genius behind this plan?”

Berlin shook his head. “He analyzed stories and found that there are only seven different ways to tell one. Out of all the billion tales, lore, and novels, every plot can be broken down to fit into these seven categories. Don’t you find that fascinating, Martín? There’s the quest, where the goal is to acquire the money, get into the mint. Then there’s also the voyage, where we create and enter a new world in the mint, run by thieves and driven by hostages. Of course there’s also the other ones, tragedy, comedy, fighting the monster, and all that. You see, it’s not about who came up with the idea for the heist, it’s more important to know who chose the plot for it.”

“I do like a good comedy,” Palermo mused. “I’m assuming we can rule out the quest since it’s not about the money.”

His comment caught Berlin by surprise. “Are the two billion euros we will get not enough for you?”

“No, I think it’s more than enough,” Palermo smiled knowingly at him and pointed at the necklace sitting on the table. “We took this tonight and you threw it at my feet, Andrés. The heist is absolutely impossible to perform without a solid investment. The guns, technology, training, tools. You have to print for a few hours just to breakeven.”

“But can you imagine having a thousand times more than that?” Berlin coaxed. “You’ll never have to work a day in your life.”

Palermo raised a dubious eyebrow. “Maybe looking at that aspect will convince everyone else to join, but that’s not what this plan was truly meant for.”

“Care to enlighten me?”

Palermo picked up the necklace, making it twinkle in the dim candlelight. “If you wanted money, you would steal something like this and sell it. If you wanted a shit ton of money, you could probably still enter the mint. But it would be done quietly, not involve the entire population of Spain. _Now_ , let’s say, completely hypothetically of course, you don’t care for the money. So why go into the mint? The adrenaline rush? The heist will be planned out precisely. Played like a boring game of chess instead of a good round of Russian Roulette.”

Palermo paused for a second, letting the chain of the necklace slowly run between his fingers. “Why did you want to steal the necklace, huh? For whom did you want it for?”

Berlin pursed his lips. Palermo’s wild goose chase of a speech was getting drastically closer to the truth. “My wife at the time.”

“So it wasn’t the money you were after, not the adrenaline rush, but a personal reason. She left you, you still stole the necklace, and for what? Revenge?”

Berlin opened his mouth, but Palermo cut him off again, throwing the necklace back on the table. “If the whole idea of this heist is because some girl rejected you once and she’s now the director of the mint, then I have a right to know. I’m not going to risk my fucking life for some petty revenge plan, no matter how great it is.”

They were both quiet for a while, listening to the sirens of an ambulance in the distance. The crickets were chirping steadily outside the broken window. No one had bothered to cut the grass in years and insects were happily making themselves at home outside. A stray cat had visited their table a few times before rolling herself up on one of the broken chairs to sleep.

In the dim light, it was hard to see the cat now, although Berlin could make out the small, round silhouette of her body, softly rising and falling as she slept.

“It wasn’t a girl,” he finally said, keeping his voice quiet, controlled. “The idea for it isn’t a quest. It’s- ” Berlin exhaled sharply. “To overcome the monster.”

Berlin looked into Palermo’s eyes, hoping this was enough information, that they could end this conversation now. Palermo, however, remained quiet. His eyes only showing a curiosity that was begging Berlin to continue.

Berlin sighed. He’d never told anyone about this before. Hell, he’d never even told anyone else about the heist before. Berlin had no reason to trust Palermo especially since they’d just met. And yet, Berlin trusted him. Had trusted Palermo to guide them out of the jewellery show, had trusted him enough to give him the necklace, and now they were hiding together in this building and it had taken Berlin merely a few hours to confess almost every detail of the plan to him.

 _He might as well know the rest._ Berlin clearly couldn’t stop himself from dishing out the secret anyway. “It was my father’s idea, or Sergio’s father I should say. He was… a good man. He despised violence and he absolutely hated robbing banks. His perfect world, he always said, was one where he didn’t have to harm anyone by his actions. And he found a way where he could make as much money as he wanted without taking it from anyone.”

“The Mint.”

Berlin nodded, fiddling with the necklace to keep his mind distracted and the memories away. “The police shot him before he could fulfill that dream.”

“I’m sorry, Andrés,” Palermo said softly. His hand reached over the table and clasped over Berlin’s. His skin felt cold and dry on his. Berlin’s first reaction was to pull away, but something stayed him.

“It happened a long time ago,” Berlin said dismissively, the words coming out too quickly. “The point is you don’t need to worry about any personal feelings getting in the way of this plan. It’s an homage to my father and I will personally ensure that no one will put the plan at risk.” He pulled his hand away from underneath Palermo’s. “I’m going to lay down for a bit, we should be able to leave early in the morning.”

*

* * *

**Present**

“So if the police do try to get in, they have to go through this vent. So I was thinking that- Andrés, are you paying attention?”

No answer. Sergio stopped highlighting the graphs and laid the paper back on the table. He looked at his older brother sitting across from him in the garden. Sergio cleared his throat audibly, his scrutinizing gaze falling to the canned fruit in Berlin’s hand that his brother was mindlessly munching on. “Andrés, are you okay?”

“Me? Yeah, I’m peachy,” Berlin grinned and stabbed a slice of peach out of the can. Demonstratively, he lifted the fork for his brother to see. “After all, you are what you eat.”

Sergio ignored the comment. It would take more than that to distract him. “I’ve never seen you eat anything out of a can before.”

“Which is exactly why I put it on my bucket list of things to try. You know, before I die and all.” Berlin rotated his wrist in an et cetera motion.

“Yes, because we wouldn’t want you to die not knowing what fruit drowned in artificial syrup tasted like,” Sergio muttered sarcastically, still looking up at his brother with a calculating glance. Berlin could see the worry in his eyes. “What happened to your Michelangelo list?”

“Oh, Sergio! All my life I’ve been chasing after one adventure to the next. Stealing one masterpiece after the other. But I realized now how wrong I was! It’s the little things in life that matter. You know what makes a hero, Sergio?”

“I’m going to assume your theory won’t comply with Campbell’s.”

“The people, Sergio. The commoners, the bourgeoisie, they’re the ones who give the hero his name. Tell me, who has the power to label us as either heroes or thieves when we take over the mint, huh? Who will stop the police from barging in?”

“The people of Spain.”

“Precisely. So by making us their heroes, they become our heroes, no?”

Berlin could see the internal conflict Sergio was clearly having. Sergio had a philosophical nature, he was always curious to hear other’s views so he could tell them exactly why they were wrong. Which was exactly the kind of conversation Berlin wanted to switch to.

But Sergio knew him just as well and it was obvious that his brother didn’t want to talk about his feelings. Which could only mean that there was _something_ that Berlin didn’t want him to know. “I suppose if you want to look at it that way… But what has that to do with canned fruit?”

Berlin smiled at him innocently. “I like the taste.” _I can’t eat anything that Palermo used to make._ But this was good. He was forced to try out new things. Berlin needed a change in his lifestyle, anyway. He’d already updated his wardrobe, gotten a new haircut, and thrown out all the things Palermo had left in his room. _The Tapestries Room._ It wasn’t Palermo’s fucking room anymore, he needed to stop referring it as such.

“Andrés,” Sergio’s voice was stern. “What’s going on with you? Where are Martín and Tatiana?”

Berlin shrugged his shoulders. “I was late for dinner with her a couple of weeks ago. Haven’t seen her since.”

Sergio raised a questioning eyebrow, but thankfully let the subject slide for now. “And Martín?”

Berlin had prepared himself for this conversation, knowing it would inevitably arise. He’d been rehearsing it over and over again in his head until he could say the words flawlessly, sans tremble in his voice. He kept perfect composure as he recited each line.

“I talked to him like you demanded me to.”

“And?”

“Well, there’s no need for him to stick around for a plan he can’t be involved in, right?”

“So he just left?”

Berlin nodded slowly. He stabbed another peach with his fork and filled his mouth with it. He chewed the peach carefully, thinking over his next words. This was the hard part. The one that would win him his self-declared Oscar. Sergio was waiting for him expectantly.

“What did you expect him to do?” Berlin forced out a haughty laugh. “Of course he left. I even offered him to stay and he rejected it. He’s not the type to sit around and do nothing, Sergio. He craves the adventure as much as I do.”

Berlin’s heart was racing, he tried to stay calm. Sergio didn’t look impressed. “What about your plans to rob the Bank? I thought you two would want to continue working on it together?”

Berlin laughed again, but this time it was real. The idea of Palermo staying and working with him was absurd. “Do you really think Martín takes rejections lightly? He stormed out of here and didn’t even bother taking his stuff with him!” Berlin wanted his performance to end. He glanced at his brother coldly, silently warning him to end this conversation.

“What did you say to him?”

“I told him it was me, not him. Things between us just weren’t working out anymore. All those long nights working on the plan really put a strain on our relationship.” Berlin dramatically grasped Sergio’s hand, “I’m touched you’re so concerned about it, brother. You’ve never cared much about my failed marriages before.”

“Andrés!”

Berlin smiled sardonically around another mouthful of peaches. “What? He’s not going to tell anyone about the plan if that’s what you’re so worried about. Same with Tatiana.”

“You better be right about this or we can forget the plan completely,” Sergio hissed.

“Tranquilo. We’re going to have 2.4 billion euros, no ones going to rat us out if we offer enough hush money.“ Berlin smirked confidently, ravishing in the control he now had over the conversation.

“Is that what you offered them? We can’t rely on that to work!”

“C’mon Sergio, don’t play dumb with me. I know you’re smart enough to figure this out. Tatiana will not talk, becauseeeee…,” Berlin grinned at him, rotating his fork like a gear, motivating his brother to finish his sentence.

“She is married to you. She knows you’re dying. She’ll get your inheritance.”

“Ding! Ding! Ding!”

“Fine. What about Martín?”

“You couldn’t torture the plan out of him. I trust him with my life.”

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one more chapter left of this part! ❤


	9. Chapter 9

**Past**

The restaurant seemed even more depressing and run down in daylight. Broken parts of furniture were carelessly laying on the ground. The planks of the wooden floor itself were filled with holes and debris. The tapestries on the walls were half torn off, half faded. Berlin couldn’t fathom what the place had looked like in its prime.

“Morning Sunshine,” Palermo stopped petting the black cat on his lap and looked up when he noticed Berlin entering the room.

Berlin had slept on the few rows of counters in the kitchen that hadn’t been completely smashed in yet. It had been a terrible few hours of sleep. He tried to press his shoulder blades together and rotated his arms in a weak attempt to get rid of the back pain. His stomach was aching with every step from where Palermo had punched him last night and his throat felt dry like sandpaper. Berlin couldn’t remember the last time he’d had anything to drink.

“I see you’ve made a new friend,” Berlin nodded at the cat, purring with her eyes closed on Palermo’s lap.

“Her name is Mila,” Palermo stated. Berlin wasn’t surprised he’d bothered to name her. “And she’s an excellent listener.”

Berlin stifled a yawn, taking in Palermo’s dark circles underneath his eyes. “Did you get any rest?”

Palermo pursed his lips, shaking his head. “One of us had to keep watch and you didn’t exactly offer to take over.”

“You could’ve woken me up,” Berlin almost wished he hadn’t fallen asleep. His entire body felt heavier and more exhausted than it did last night.

“I was going to, but then I got thinking about what would happen if my true love’s kiss didn’t wake you up. My whole dream of living this fairy tale with you would’ve been over!”

Berlin rolled his eyes. He regretted not getting anything to eat at the bar last night, he was starting to get hungry. “Do you know if the streets are clear yet?”

“I haven’t heard any sirens for a while, but that doesn’t mean anything.”

“I’ll see if I can find a bakery or something and check the news.”

Palermo started to laugh. “You might want to look in a mirror first before you leave.”

“I would, but they’re all completely smashed,” Berlin informed him annoyed. He had taken a quick peek at the bathrooms when they’d first arrived at this place. Not only were all the toilets and sinks smashed, but the walls were covered in mould and inhabited by dozens of termites. Berlin had zero intention of ever setting foot in that disgusting bathroom again.

“Let me see what I can do, guapo.” Palermo dropped the cat on the floor and got off his chair. He quickly walked over to Berlin, his eyes running up and down on him.

Berlin felt Palermo’s hands run through his hair, fixing the strands that were standing out. “You still have some dried blood on your lip, might be a good idea to wipe that off before you go.”

Berlin licked his thumb and tried to locate the crust of dried blood. He didn’t want to imagine what he looked like right now. Bloodstains, messy hair, yesterday’s clothes. He was glad only Palermo was seeing him like this. “Is my face at all bruised?”

“No, you should be fine. It’s just a bit swollen. It’s right there,” Palermo tapped at his own jawline, watching in amusement as Berlin helplessly tried to locate the dried blood, smearing spit all over his face in the process.

“Here,” Palermo took another step toward him, licked his own thumb and gently pressed it against the corner of Berlin’s mouth, wiping carefully at the scab.

They were standing right across from each other, the distance between them so small that their chests were almost touching. The sunlight was streaming through the open window, making Palermo’s eyes seem impossibly greener.

Before Berlin could figure out how he felt about the situation, Palermo was already withdrawing his hand and taking a step back again. “Maybe it’d be best if I just went and you stayed here.”

Berlin smiled bitterly, “Do I look that bad?”

“No, lindo, just a bit beaten up,” Palermo smirked.

“I haven’t properly thanked you for that, have I?”

“I told you not to mess with me,” he slapped Berlin playfully on the stomach. “You don’t fight much, do you? Even your heist is more strategy than actually doing. Dulls the whole plan down a little bit, don’t you think?”

“The plan won’t work without the people of Spain to support us. Any violence we commit is a risk to the plan.”

Palermo shrugged his shoulder carelessly, seemingly bored of the conversation already. “Maybe we can give the hostages our guns, see if they feel the same way. What do you want for breakfast?”

*

**Present**

Sergio soon left again after their conversation, leaving Berlin alone in the monastery. The buildings felt empty without anyone in them. Of course, all the monks were still there, but they were more like stray cats roaming around the property. They barely interacted with Berlin, never made a sound. He would just see them sauntering from building to building.

The only good thing about not having anyone left around was the fact that Berlin couldn’t miss everyone simultaneously. Sometimes he’d be so busy wondering what the hell had happened to Tatiana, that he’d completely forget about Palermo and Sergio being gone too.

Berlin still had no idea why his wife had left him. Unlike Palermo, she had taken all her things with her. It just seemed like a strange coincidence to Berlin that they had both left him on the same night.

He wondered if Palermo had run into her on his way out, had said something to her to make her leave him. Berlin wouldn’t be surprised if he had. He wholeheartedly trusted Palermo to keep the heist secret, but all’s fair in love and war, as they say.

He’d seen Palermo take revenge on people before. He was sneaky about it, never directly interfered. Similar to playing Jenga, Palermo would remove one allegedly superfluous block, take a step back, and watch as every succeeding action lead to the collapse of the tower.

His plans always involved chaos seemingly appearing out of nowhere. Only when everything had gone exactly as planned, when the person was left with nothing, would Palermo drop the curtain and take credit for his actions.

If Palermo did have a hand in Tatiana’s disappearance, Berlin could conclude two things. The first one being that Palermo had taken his pain and turned it into anger. That he would do everything to hurt Berlin as much as Berlin had hurt him. Which lead Berlin to his second conclusion: If Palermo was plotting revenge against him, this was only the start of it.

“Buongiorno.”

Berlin lifted his head sharply and stared at Giovanni, one of the monks, who’d appeared out of nowhere. “Buongiorno,” Berlin smiled. “Today’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?”

Berlin had caught himself brooding in the chapel one too many times that he now spent most of his days in the gardens. It was nice here. The monks regularly looked after the plants, and flowers were blossoming all around Berlin.

Berlin watched as Giovanni quietly began pruning the damaged limbs off the plants. He must have notice Berlin staring at him because he turned around and made eye-contact.

“You look unwell,” Giovanni said. To Berlin’s dismay, he got up from his crouching position, put the pruning shears back in his robe, and came over to sit on the garden bench with Berlin.

Berlin waited for him to say something so Berlin could smile reassuringly and say it’s just a migraine, or something similar along those lines.

The monk, however, did not speak. Eventually, Berlin realized that Giovanni was waiting for _him_ to say something.

“I’m fine, Giovanni, you don’t need to worry about me. It’s just a small migraine making me feel a little bit under the weather today,” he gave him a weak, tired smile, which Giovanni did not return. He just kept staring at Berlin with worried eyes.

The conversation was making Berlin slightly uncomfortable. He was becoming more and more self-conscious the longer Giovanni kept looking at him. Was Berlin’s misery that transparent?

“My family just left,” Berlin found himself admitting, even if it was just to fill the silence between them. “It’s taking me some time to adjust to the solitude again.”

“Solitude can be a good thing. It gives you the chance to step away from the social context and allows you to understand how it shaped you. Sometimes, I find, it’s best to take myself out of a problem first before I try to attempt to solve it.”

Giovanni’s words made Berlin laugh bitterly. “Does it still work if it’s the problem itself that I took out of my life? Or does that suggest that the problem just lies within me?”

Giovanni's answer was a silent, encouraging smile.

“There was nothing else I could have done. I don’t even know what I did for Tatiana to leave me. But I had to let Martín go.” He’d said too much. Embarrassed, Berlin looked at Giovanni with wide eyes, hoping for words of reassurance.

No response. The monk simply kept the soft smile on his lips, his eyes looking at Berlin warmly, patiently waiting for him to continue.

_Screw it._ Berlin had already given away enough, it didn’t matter now if he kept going or not. It’s not like Giovanni would tell anyone. The whole point of a monk was to be secluded, silent, and generous. Truly, what better person could Berlin even ask for to listen to his problems?

“I told him I loved him and he didn’t even say it back. He just stood there, looking completely broken. But he had to leave, I _had_ _to_ make him leave. He would’ve never agreed to stay behind otherwise.” The words spurted out of Berlin like he’d been waiting all his life to finally say them out loud. “The job was never supposed to include people we know. We’re not supposed to care about them beyond the scope of the plan. I understand those rules. They make sense. People become careless, make mistakes, someone gets hurt and you take it personally. I mean, what if Martín got hurt? Would I choose him over the plan, choose him over Sergio, over our father’s dream? I just-” Berlin exhaled sharply, trying to find the right words for what he was feeling. “Didn’t want to put myself in a situation where I would ever have to make that choice. I don’t know why I wasn’t able to tell him that. Maybe he’s right in calling me a coward. Maybe he would’ve understood, I don’t know. I messed it up. But I just needed to know what it could’ve been like, if only for a moment.”

A silence followed after Berlin was done.

“God,” Giovanni began, “works in mysterious ways. I assure you that everything happens for a reason. But He has given us free will to allow us to choose the good. Do you know what the greatest form of good is?”

Of course, Berlin did. He was no bookworm like Sergio, but Berlin had read his fair share of Augustine and Boethius. “Happiness.”

His answer earned him an approving smile. “Remember, happiness stems from our virtue, which can only be found within us. We must not look for happiness in others. Seclusions, therefore, will help guide your path into Heaven.”

Berlin was taken aback and stared at Giovanni confoundedly. “With all due respect, Abbott, are you suggesting that I should just stay here and do nothing?”

*

End of Part 1


	10. Chapter 10

# Part 2

**Past**

“Salamanca.” The female voice echoed through the speakers on the train.

“That’s our stop,” Berlin informed Palermo and they both got out of their seats, briskly walking to the door, trying to keep their balance as the train came to a stuttering halt. “We have to take the bus from hereon.”

“Can’t we just steal a car?” Palermo whined, trailing behind Berlin as they exited the train station. As tempting as the idea was, the necklace was still tucked securely inside Berlin’s jacket. It would be too much of a risk to do anything else illegal. If they got caught stealing a car and the police found the necklace, they’d be facing more than just a few hours in prison.

“Hijo de puta,” Palermo swore under his breath, stopping abruptly and almost causing Berlin to bump into him. Thick and heavy droplets of rain were splashing against the glass exit doors and they could see the people outside clinging onto their umbrellas and walking briskly around puddles that were forming quickly on the streets. Grey clouds filled the sky and a roar of thunder was heard in the distance. “How far’s the bus stop?”

“It’s just around the corner, maybe two or three minutes from here,” Berlin said in good-spirits while silently cursing Sergio and his paranoid no taxi rule. The car theft was sounding more appealing by the second.

Palermo’s sigh was exaggeratingly loud, but he followed Berlin to the great outdoors where the shower welcomed them immediately. Both of their suits were soaked within seconds and the wet fabric began fluttering wildly against their skin as they hastened to the bus stop. Berlin enviously looked at a man running past them with an umbrella and a raincoat on.

“So much for making a good first impression,” Palermo complained gesturing at his wet clothes as they finally reach the intersection and turned into the next street. “Che, is that our bus?”

Berlin had only visited Sergio in Salamanca a few times and so he wasn’t too familiar with the public transit system or the exact bus route they had to take. He had no idea whether this bus driving past them and splashing water onto the sidewalk, was the right one, nor when the next one would show up, but getting on any bus was a better alternative than standing outside getting drenched.

“Looks like it. Let’s go!”

If someone had told Berlin that taking the time to laugh at Palermo’s face at a jewellery show would end up with him getting stopped by the police, beaten up, sleeping in a dump, and chasing after a bus in the middle of a downpour, he wouldn’t have believed a single word of it.

Yet here he was, trying to give the bus driver a charming smile as he fiddled around his wallet, praying he still had enough coins on him to pay for the ride. His dishevelled appearance certainly didn’t help him in this situation. At least they were able to catch the bus and get on it, something Berlin never thought he’d be this grateful for.

Defeated, Berlin sighed, and put his last fifty-euro bill on the tender tray. He could feel the puddle of water in his shoe swishing around and soaking his socks as he walked down the aisle. The wet fabric of his clothes clung to his skin and felt cold compared to the humidity inside the bus.

“Felling charitable today?” Palermo teased him as they took their seats at the back of the bus. Berlin’s seat still felt warm from whoever’s butt had sat in it before him.

“What happened to all of _your_ money?” Berlin snapped irritated, his mood getting worse and worse by the second.

“Spent it all on breakfast. For some crazy reason, I didn’t think to carry too much cash on me when I expected to leave with half a million euros more in my pocket last night.”

Berlin only listened to Palermo with one ear. Berlin twisted around in his seat, trying to read the bus route displayed behind them. It looked like they had taken the correct bus after all. Berlin just hoped Sergio would actually be there when they showed up at his house.

*

Berlin knocked three times at the black door of a beige chalet. _Knock. Knock-Knock._

They waited in silence. The shower had finally subsided and the heat of the sun was burning through their wet clothes. Berlin tried to peak through the frosted glass built around the door but couldn’t make out any movement.

“You could also try ringing the doorbell,” Palermo pointed out like a smart-ass and pressed down on the small, round button on the cement wall.

A few seconds later they heard a rustling and the door was unlocked.

“Andrés? Wha-What happened?” Sergio looked completely dumbstruck at his brother, taking in his soggy clothes and eight-o’clock shadow.

“Mind if we borrow your shower?” Berlin smirked, deciding against giving his brother a hug in his current state. He nodded at Palermo. “This is our newest recruit, Martín Berrote.”

“Nice to meet you. Please, come in.” Sergio was still too stunned to make sense of the situation.

They all stepped into the narrow hallway. Palermo was staring at Sergio, slowly looking him up and down.

“We are not the same size,” Palermo stated matter-of-factly, shooting Berlin a nasty look.

His comment only increased Sergio’s confusion, while Berlin struggled to hold back his laughter.

“Señor Berrote, the bathroom is just at the end of the hallway to your left. The towels are in the cupboard.” Sergio said politely and waited until Palermo had disappeared in the bathroom before he turned to his brother again. “Andrés, what the fuck?”

“We forgot to bring our luggage, I told him he could borrow some of your clothes. Although, I don’t think Martín would mind running around in nothing but a towel if that’s the state you prefer to see him in.”

Sergio ignored his remark. “Who is this man and why do you look like you’ve spent the night on the street?”

“Life is funny, isn’t it? You see, one night you’re planning a perfect robbery on Madrid’s finest jewellery show and the next night you’re standing on your brother’s doorstep drenched and without so much of a dime in your pocket.”

Sergio’s eyes widened slightly. “You stole the Harry Winston necklace? Goddammit, I should’ve known it was you. It’s all over the news, Andrés!”

Berlin’s answer was a self-satisfied grin. He took his coat off and reached inside the pocket to fish the box out, throwing the necklace at Sergio who opened it with curiosity.

“It’s nice.”

“Nice?” Berlin laughed incredulously. “Sergio, you’re looking at a ninety-carat clean-cut, high saturated emerald surrounded by hundreds of diamonds. I think this goes beyond your standard definition of nice.”

“And he helped you get it?” Sergio nodded toward the bathroom, referring to Palermo. The walls of the apartment were thin and Berlin could hear the stream of water and Palermo’s off-key singing.

“More or less,” Berlin shrugged his shoulders. He bent down to take his wet shoes and socks off before walking any further into the house.

The place hadn’t changed much since Berlin had been there last. Same furniture, same brother, same gray laminate flooring stretching from one room to the next. The windows were still small, letting little daylight in but keeping the place nice and cool when the humidity outside was suffocating. Despite Berlin’s numerous recommendations, there were still no paintings on the walls nor any other decoration to add some sense of a home to the house. Everything was neatly organized with the exception of the kitchen which was located across from the bathroom and had a few pans sitting in the sink. He hoped Palermo would hurry up so Berlin could get out of these clothes, finally put something dry on, and have a decent meal to eat.

“He’s a civil engineer, I thought we could use his help with the tunnel.”

“How much did you tell him about the plan?”

“Everything,” Berlin smirked sardonically, knowing Sergio was about to lose his shit around him. “He can’t exactly help us with something if he doesn’t know what that something is, right?”

“Andrés!” Sergio hissed and grabbed his arm tightly. “You can’t just pick up random people off the street and decide who takes part in this heist! How long have you even known this man for?”

“If we’re rounding up, I’d say a good twenty hours,” Berlin said overly cheerful, amused at watching his brother trying to -and failing at- controlling his temper.

“Are you out of your fucking mind? Please tell me you’re not fucking serious!”

“Relax, hermanito. Bogota swears by him and I’ve seen Martín work. He’s good at what he does. We could use him, Sergio, and I trust him completely.”

“You better be right about him. We cannot take any chances with this plan,” Sergio warned him, but he seemed a bit calmer and let go of Berlin’s arm.

They were quiet for a second, even Palermo’s singing and the sound of the shower stopped. Awkwardly, Sergio motioned to the couch in the living room. “Please take a seat.”

Once seated, the sunlight streamed through the window, highlighting Berlin’s bruise and drawing Sergio’s attention to it. Immediately, he picked up his interrogation again, staring with a hint of concern at Berlin’s cheek. “What the hell happened to your face?”

“My fault,” Palermo stepped grinning out of the bathroom in nothing but a red towel wrapped low around his waist. “We played a bit too rough last night. Do you have a dryer that I can put my clothes in?”

Sergio’s earlier confusion came back and he looked helplessly at Berlin, as if to double-check with him that _this guy_ was who they’d be working on the plan with from now on.

Berlin gave his brother’s doubtful look no attention, his own eyes too busy wandering over Palermo’s wet, brushed-back hair, and slowly falling down to his clean face, broad shoulders, and naked chest. His skin looked so soft, Berlin couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like against his-

He shook his head as if to erase the image that had been about to run through his mind in explicit detail. Berlin had tried it already and he hadn’t liked it. He was probably just sleep-deprived and his mind was going crazy.

Abruptly, Berlin stood up from the sofa. “I guess it’s finally my turn to take a shower.”

*

* * *

**Present**

It didn’t take much time for Berlin to gather his belongings. Although he didn’t know how long he would be leaving the monastery for, there wasn’t much he wanted to take with him anyway. His new clothes were neatly folded in the leather duffle bag and his wallet and fake passport were stored safely in his chest pocket. Other than that, Berlin didn’t really need anything.

The cab ride was quiet, which was an unusual situation to be in for Berlin. He’d thought about stealing a car, wouldn’t have minded the distraction for a little while, but pulling any theft alone wasn’t the same.

After a while, the cab driver turned the radio on. A successful attempt at drowning out the silence, but not the thoughts that kept racing through Berlin’s mind.

_“Where to, signore?”_

_“The airport.”_

He didn’t know what he’d do once he got there, and if Sergio found out he’d use the passport for anything but an emergency, all hell would break loose. Where would Berlin go anyways? His urge to get away was anything but specific.

The music’s volume was being lowered. “What gate do you need to get to?”

They were almost at the airport. Berlin felt like an idiot. He didn’t even like flying. He should have just rented a car.

“Terminal one, please. I’ll let you decide on the gate.”

As they got further into the lane leading to the airport, the traffic immediately began to back up.

“I swear, they’re always doing constructions here. Next year they’re gonna patch up the next ten metres and spent another year fixin’ it,” the driver tried to start up another conversation, which Berlin straight-up ignored.

His eyes took in the chaotic scene. Honking cars from left and right, trying to cut into the departure lane, someone drove on the side of the street almost through the abandoned construction zone.

Berlin had missed the noise of the city life. As wonderfully quiet and otherworldly the monastery was, he sometimes found himself longing for the hectic, everyday life the city had to offer. Getting stuck in traffic, watching people run and miss their bus, the tourist stands at every corner. Berlin loved it all.

“Son of a bitch!” The cab driver yelled, pressing down on the horn while a red sedan squeezed into the lane in front of them, barely fitting in the space between the cab and the car in front of it. A bit calmer, the driver turned to Berlin. “People always ask me how I can drive in traffic like this and I tell ‘em I don’t mind. You get used to it, start to enjoy the detours you get to take ‘round the city to avoid the rush hour. But airports? Man, I’ll never get used to them. You get to share the road with a whole ‘nother level of stupid.”

“I actually wouldn’t mind driving around for a little while,” Berlin found himself saying. “The car rentals are by terminal one, no?”

The driver gave him a concerned look, eyeing him as if Berlin had gone insane. “You wanted me to drive you all the way to the airport so you can rent a car?”

Berlin gave him a brilliant smile. “What can I say? I had a change of heart.”

*

Berlin drove all night with the soft humming of the Porsche 911 keeping him company. He had no idea where he was headed, each sign on the highway passing by him in a blur.

He hadn’t stopped driving since he’d left the airport other than to fill up on gas. The little arrow on the dash was getting dangerously close to pointing to the E again and Berlin was starting to get hungry. He’d been thinking about stopping somewhere and maybe get some rest for the past hour; he just couldn’t make his mind up on where he wanted to be.

“ _A cosa serve soffrire_

_Per ogni bacio che tu mi dai?_

_Tutto col tempo guarisce_

_Ed anche tu mi scorderai.”_

_(engl. what’s the point in suffering over every kiss you give me, time heals all the pain, and you too will forget me)_

Berlin was drumming his fingers against the steering wheel, softly singing along to the music. At least the drive was making him feel better. It was good to be in full control of something again. To be moving at 180km/h toward the unknown.

He had missed the feeling of luxury and possession at the monastery. As much as Berlin loved the seclusion, the architecture, the simplicity of life of the monks, he couldn’t give the fast-paced, hectic city life up completely. Berlin enjoyed living a lifestyle that allowed him to throw his stolen cash at the world and claim whatever he desired.

“Non soffrirò perché non amerò,” Berlin hummed happily and gently steered the wheel to the right, taking the next exit. (engl. I won’t suffer because I won’t love)

It took a while to get into the city and off the highway, but once there, Berlin found himself in a relatively small, quiet city.

The engine of the Porsche purred softly as Berlin finally found a gas station that was still open.

As he was filling up the tank, Berlin debated whether or not to grab a quick snack at the gas station or to keep driving until he’d finally stumble upon whatever he was looking for. However, he was a bit tired; he hadn’t been able to sleep much in the last few days.

In the end, Berlin decided to stay put and hopefully locate a decent hotel in the city. As much as Berlin loved playing the odds, he could think of better ways to act reckless than crashing the Porsche due to sleep deprivation. It wasn’t the header on the front-page newspaper kind of death Berlin was hoping for.

*

Berlin pulled into the parking lot of a locally owned hotel that the clerk at the gas station had given him the address for. Berlin just hoped they were still open.

Now that he had finally made the responsible decision to call it a night and accept that he needed to get some sleep, his body awarded him with utter exhaustion. Berlin could barely keep his eyes open as he made the short walk to the front entrance.

“Buona sera, signore,” the lady at the reception smiled warmly at him, a smile which Berlin returned easily. He was relieved to see her.

A few minutes later Berlin was checked into his room. He didn’t bother turning the lights on. He dropped his bag on the floor and went straight to bed, falling fast asleep as soon as his head touched the pillow.

*


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for some graphic violence. It's in the present part so feel free to skip the italicized stuff at the beginning

* * *

**Past**

“This is sad,” Palermo noted, staring at his water glass after supper. “I’ll have to get us something manlier to celebrate.”

Berlin swallowed down his last meatball. All through supper, they’d talked about the heist to the point where half of Berlin’s food had gotten cold. He was sick of listening about tunnels. Sergio _always_ talked about work when they were eating. Hearing about mud and dirt while looking at the brown, mashed up, meatballs almost made Berlin lose his appetite. “Didn’t you say you spent all your money?”

Palermo pursed his lips and looked at Berlin in exasperation _._ “This is a university city, Andrés. It’s not going to be that fucking hard to get some liquor.” He got up from his chair and put his coat on. “I can’t believe you trust me to design a 500-metre tunnel but don’t think I can steal a fucking bottle of scotch.”

“It’s 486 metres, not 500. We need to be exact with our measurements, otherwise, the sensors will detect the tunnel,” Sergio noted dryly.

Palermo slammed his fist against the wall and angrily turned around. “Yes, you’ve already said that like a hundred times. Jesus Christ, I’m not a fucking idiot! Do you want me to help you with this job or not?”

Berlin shot his brother a warning look. The more they talked about the heist the clearer it was becoming how much of an asset Palermo could be to them. He was talented, smart, and well experienced.

“Forgive me, Martín,” Sergio put up his hands. “Of course we want you.”

Palermo left with a huff and slammed the door shut behind him.

“He’s lovely, isn’t he?” Berlin grinned at his brother. “He gets more tolerable over time.”

Sergio wiped his mouth with a napkin and placed it on his plate. “I don’t like his mood swings, but he does have some brilliant ideas.”

“So am I forgiven for telling him about the plan? Do I get to claim my status as a professional recruiter back?” Berlin teased, treating the conversation light-heartedly.

Berlin was not surprised to see Sergio do the opposite, keeping the solemn expression on his face. “No, Andrés. We are not including any more people in this until we know exactly how to go about this plan.”

Berlin ignored his comment on purpose. “What about Bogota?” He mused, carefully watching Sergio’s reaction out of the corner of his eye. “He’s good at his job.”

“This is not something to joke about,” Sergio snapped at him sternly. “You know the rules, Andrés. We shouldn’t have any personal attachments to this plan, especially when it comes to the people. The less we know about them, the better our chances of succeeding.”

Berlin laughed, “Now you’re talking like a real man, hermanito.”

Before Sergio could lecture Berlin some more, the front door opened again and Palermo came back into the kitchen, holding a bottle of Johnnie Walker triumphantly up in the air.

“That was fast,” Sergio noted, unable to hide the surprise in his voice.

“I’m a professional,” Palermo winked at him and slid back into the chair across from Berlin.

Berlin was glad to see Palermo in a better mood again. He raised a mocking eyebrow at Palermo. “You’re a professional at stealing alcohol?”

“The best.”

“Maybe after the mint we can rob a brewery,” Sergio muttered sarcastically, not at all impressed by the fact that there were not only two criminals in his house, but also a stolen necklace, and now a stolen bottle of whiskey. “You two make yourselves at home and enjoy yourself with that.”

“You’re not drinking with us?”

Sergio shook his head. “No, I want to go over the ideas we discussed tonight so we can keep working on them tomorrow.”

Palermo groaned. “Is he always this boring?” He asked Berlin after Sergio had left the kitchen.

“What makes you think _I’m_ going to drink with you?”

The corner of Palermo’s mouth shot up. “How about another bet?”

*

* * *

**Present**

_His thumb was stroking Palermo’s face, wiping away the tear that had escaped his eyes. “I’d give anything to feel this, but it’s impossible.”_

_Berlin kept caressing his face, leaving a trail of blood on Palermo’s cheekbone. Confused, Berlin pulled his hand away and looked at his thumb that was now covered in dark red._

_He could feel his heart beating a million miles per hour at the sight. His eyes darted back to Palermo whose tears had turned into blood._

_“I wanted to melt gold with you!” Palermo screamed at him, more blood was gushing out of his mouth, which he didn’t seem to take notice of._

_Horrified, Berlin backed away. Berlin tried to run away but hit something hard that made him stumble and fall backwards on the floor of the chapel._

_“We have to abandon the plan. You ruined it, Andrés. Look at what you’ve done!” Sergio’s voice was booming above him. Berlin turned to look at his brother but was instead faced with the doctor from Valencia._

_“You have Hellmer’s myopathy.”_

_Berlin tried to get himself off the floor but failed. His arms were shaking too much, flapping around like Jell-O. He tried to push his legs up but couldn’t feel anything below his torso. “I can’t move.” He realized in shock and a bang echoed through the chapel._

_The door was kicked open and a special forces unit barged in with Tatiana leading the group. Berlin watched as they ran right past him. They finally stopped and stood motionless, hovering over Palermo who was still bleeding. Palermo was stretched out motionless on the floor, only a few feet away from Berlin. Palermo stared at Berlin, his blood-shot eyes never leaving Berlin’s._

_Berlin wanted to pull him away from the group and save him, but his arms felt as if they were buried in cement._

_“Martín,” Berlin croaked and watched helplessly as the puddle of Palermo’s blood grew bigger and bigger, until eventually, a small stream was making its way toward Berlin, the warm liquid dancing around his fingertips._

_He needed to get up. Berlin tried to kick his legs up, but still, nothing worked._

_Berlin watched in horror as Tatiana lifted the carbine she was holding and pointed it at Palermo’s forehead._

_“No! Noo! Take me instead!” Berlin yelled, feeling sick at the sight and struggling to lift his legs._

_It was all in vain. The special forces laughed through their masks, the echo booming through the room, a sound that resembled children’s laughter._

_“I don’t need to kill you,” Tatiana giggled, holding her stomach with one hand while the other still held Palermo’s motionless body at gunpoint. She nodded at the doctor with a wicked grin. “Look at you, you’re already dying.”_

_And with that, she pulled the trigger._

_*_

Berlin woke up with his heart pounding in his throat. For the first few seconds, he felt paralyzed in his bed not knowing why. Gradually, snippets of his nightmare came back to him and he tried to move his legs and arms, relieved to find his body still working.

He could still hear their laughter ringing in his ears. It took Berlin a minute to realize that the sound of children laughing was actually coming from somewhere outside of the room.

Berlin opened his eyes and looked around, not recognizing his surroundings. He tried to remember what happened yesterday, the memories coming back only reluctantly.

He had driven here. He was in a hotel. There were kids running up and down the hallway outside of his room, laughing loudly.

With a groan, Berlin rolled over and looked at the alarm clock on the nightstand. _7:32_. He’d been able to sleep four hours.

Berlin felt far from well-rested. The ending of his dream kept replaying itself over and over in his head. Palermo. Dead. Because of him.

Berlin scrambled out of the bedsheets and made his way to the shower. He just needed to wake up. Once the cold water would hit his face, he’d be able to think clearly again and not lose his shit over a silly nightmare.

Berlin turned the knob of the shower on, but had a better idea and ran out of the bathroom. He just needed more distractions. Plus, the monastery didn’t have any TVs. Berlin felt a surge of excitement at having the news or a soap opera running in the background while he was in the shower. It would give him something to concentrate on if his mind tried to stray him back to the dream.

*

Thirty minutes later, Berlin stepped into the breakfast room with a rumbling stomach, whose growl only got louder at the sight of stacks of different foods presented. The smell of coffee welcomed him like a mother pulling her long lost child into a loving hug.

Berlin decided to ignore his protesting stomach for now and headed straight to the coffee dispenser. He grabbed one of the few cups that were still left and started pressing down on the pump. It took a few pumps to start the coffee from spluttering out and Berlin hoped there was enough coffee left in the dispenser to fill his cup.

“That’s quite an arm workout, huh?” A woman laughed softly and Berlin turned around to see a beautiful, slender woman standing behind him in line.

“If the coffee doesn’t last, a workout might be the only thing left that can wake me up.” Berlin smiled charmingly, taking in her long, straight blonde hair, blue eyes, and freckles. He gave the pump a few more squeezes until only a few more droplets spurted out. _Oh well_. At least it had been enough to fill his cup.

He heard the woman behind him sigh loudly at the sight. “Please don’t tell me it’s empty. I don’t think I can keep my eyes open for much longer without any caffeine in me.”

Berlin chuckled and playfully tilted his head. “Well, now I feel guilty. Don’t try to trick me into giving you this cup.”

A blush crept over her cheekbones but she bit her lip, smiling coyly. “Why? Is it working?”

Comically, Berlin looked at her, then back at the cup, as if trying to weigh his option. After a second, he took one of her hands and placed the mug around it. “It’s all yours.” He squeezed her hand and gave her another dazzling smile. “Enjoy.” With that Berlin walked away from her and to the food section, loading his plate up with toast and fruit.

Although the dining hall was busy, Berlin was able to quickly find a small, empty table. He sat down and started eating quietly, trying to plan out his day.

As much as Berlin loved driving the Porsche, he had absolutely no desire to get back on the road again. He was sick of driving for now. The prospect of staying in his room all day and do absolutely nothing was much more appealing. Laying in bed, watching TV, order some take-out. Maybe he could go for a walk and go outside, explore the city for a little while.

“You look like you could use a cup of coffee.” Startled, Berlin looked up and found the blonde from earlier smiling warmly at him and placing a cup of steaming hot coffee next to his plate. “They just refilled it, I figured I owed you one.”

“That’s awfully thoughtful of you,” Berlin grinned and beckoned her to take the seat across from him which she gratefully took.

“So what brings you to this lovely establishment?” She asked, biting into her piece of toast, teeth shining brilliantly white.

Berlin contemplated whether or not to lie and make up an elaborate story or go with a loosely based version of the truth. “Fate?” Berlin mused, his eyes twinkling dangerously. “I’m only here for the day, this is just a short rest stop.”

“What’s the final destination?”

“Bari,” Berlin blurted out, picking the first city that came to his mind. “I have a business meeting on Wednesday.”

“What do you do?”

Berlin extended his hand. “Jose Alfonso, System Analyst of Mapfre.”

The woman took his hand, her skin soft against Berlin’s. “Alessia Calvetti, PR of Rósal.”

*

It didn’t take much to get her into his room. Berlin normally enjoyed a bit of a pursue, a game where he could chase and be chased. This really wasn’t his usual style.

It was still too early in the day for the cleaner to have come by; the bedsheets were still undone, hanging loosely over the edge of the mattress. Berlin could feel a bundle of fabric pressing against his back as he spread himself across the bed. His pants were hanging loosely around his ankle, giving Alessia all the access she needed to suck his cock.

Berlin closed his eyes and tried to focus on the sensation, the warmth and tight pressure around his dick, the slide of Alessia’s tongue as her head bopped up and down, the occasional quick suck at the tip. This was good. Comforting. The last time Berlin had been this close to another person had been with Palermo. It was about time Berlin replaced those memories.

Berlin felt Alessia’s hand on his, pulling on his arm until his palm rested on the top of her head. Berlin forcefully started jerking her head back and force, grabbing her blonde hair that ran way too smooth and much too long through his fingers. He fucked her mouth with quick, hard thrusts, ignoring the images of Palermo that stubbornly appeared in his mind.

With a loud _pop_ and one last lick, Alessia pulled off and positioned herself on the bed until she was straddled on top of Berlin.

The new position made Berlin curious and he opened his eyes again. He watched as her hips rode back and forth, her tits bouncing with every thrust above him.

This also wasn’t his usual style.

Before he could change his mind and debate how much he actually cared, Berlin rolled them both over, putting him on top and Alessia on display below him. A loud moan echoed through the room as Berlin started to fuck her properly. Each high pitched cry escaping Alessia’s lips was met with a hard, shallow thrust and accompanied by the sound of skin slapping together.

“Feels so good, harder, yea- _ahh_ , right there,” Alessia whined, wrapping her long legs around Berlin’s torso and meeting him in the middle. He wished she’d just shut up.

Annoyed and wanting this to be over, he wrapped one hand around her neck, squeezing slightly, hoping that would keep her quiet. Frustrated, as she seemed to enjoy it, Berlin tightened his grip, pulled out and pushed her onto her stomach and continued fucking her with closed eyes.

Her choked out moans kept ringing in his ears and Berlin regretted not having left the TV on so it could drown out the noise she was making. He just wanted to forget all the reasons that brought him here.

Berlin knew perfectly well what caused his indifference to the tightness of her pussy around his dick, the eagerness she threw himself at him, the rough sex which he usually enjoyed.

At least Alessia knew what she wanted from him.

Berlin tried not to picture it, but, in the end, couldn’t stop himself. Palermo on his stomach, his ass on perfect display for him, his tight hole penetrated by Berlin’s dick stretching Palermo wide open. The noises he would make. The way their bodies would melt flawlessly together. He could hear Palermo whimpering softly against the bedsheets.

Berlin’s hand ran softly across Alessia’s smooth back, along her spine, up to her neck. He imagined the two small bumps of Palermo’s moles he would find there. The hard muscles around each shoulder blade, Palermo’s round ass pressed tightly against Berlin’s pelvis.

Berlin pulled Alessia up by the hips, thrusting deeper into her and allowing her ass to rest higher up against Berlin’s body.

His hand slid off Alessia's hip and settled between her legs, his fingers playing with the wet folds of her pussy. It almost ruined Berlin’s imagination and he forced his eyes shut tighter, thinking of Palermo’s dick in his hand, jerking him off to every thrust of Berlin’s hips as he fucked into him. Palermo would come soon, that’s why Berlin’s hand felt wet, he would come all over Berlin’s hand and Berlin would finish inside of him.

“Oh, _fuck_ , yes!” Alessia screamed, somewhere far in the background, while Berlin’s thrusts became more erratic and rougher.

A few seconds later, Berlin pulled out and pushed her off him, emptying herself all over her body and bedsheets, not caring where it landed.

It took a few minutes for their breathing to steady, for their heart rates to slow down and their eyes to slowly crack open.“I guess I need a shower,” Alessia laughed carefree, looking down at her cum-covered body.

Berlin nodded silently, unsure of what he wanted to do with himself now. Part of him wanted to leave the hotel and continue driving further away, to go to wherever the road led him next.

Another part of him -mostly the physical part of Berlin- went through another wave of exhaustion and heaviness. He didn’t want to leave this bed ever again.

Maybe he could convince Alessia to stay the night, she said she wouldn’t check out for a couple more days. A body beside his might help him sleep at night. It’d be nice to have someone to wake up next to, to start the day off with someone’s lips around his dick. Berlin shook the picture of Palermo’s hollowed-out cheeks and green eyes out of his mind. _Alessia_ , Berlin corrected himself. He wanted _Alessia_ to stay.

Slowly and with a soft, sleepy groan, Alessia rolled herself out of the bed and Berlin watched her naked figure cross the short path to the bathroom. She didn’t close the door behind her properly and Berlin could clearly hear the sound of water rushing out of the showerhead and the smack of the glass door opening and closing.

With Alessia momentarily gone, Palermo's face began haunting Berlin again. He needed to find himself another distraction. Berlin grabbed the remote and turned the TV back on. The soap opera channel he’d watch this morning was currently playing a commercial about back pain and Berlin flickered through the different channels, looking for anything that would stir his interest in the slightest.

A glimmering green object flashed briefly in the top, right corner of the screen as Berlin aimlessly zapped through channel after channel. He was already a few channels ahead when Berlin realized what he’d just seen. Cursing to himself, Berlin forcefully pushed the minus button on the remote until the news channel played on the TV screen.

_“Yesterday, at Sicily’s first-ever jewellery show, an emerald pair of earrings estimated to be worth almost five-hundred thousand euros was stolen. The police have not identified any suspects at this point. Witnesses are still being interviewed…”_

Berlin listened to the anchorwoman intently but was unable to register any of her actual words. As if hypnotized, he stared at the picture on the screen. He’d seen this type of emerald before, knew of a perfect necklace that would match these earrings flawlessly. The necklace that was missing from the box he’d left behind in the chapel. The one Palermo had taken with him when he’d left the monastery.

Was he sending Berlin a message?

*


	12. Chapter 12

**Past**

“I bet that you’ve never stolen a Lichtenstein painting.”

Palermo shot him a dirty look and took another gulp straight from the bottle.

Berlin gave him a lopsided smile, eyes shining brightly. “That’s three shots in the row, congratulations on the hatrick.”

“I’m surprised you can still count that far.”

“I can handle my liquor unlike some of us.”

Palermo childishly stuck his tongue out at him. “No, you just keep cheating through every fucking game.”

“I don’t think you being unable to play on my level should be considered cheating.”

“Fine,” Palermo said petulantly. “I bet you’ve never been with another man.”

He handed the bottle to Berlin triumphantly, who held up his hands in rejection. “No, that’s another one for you, my friend.”

Palermo started laughing happily -almost manically- not at all caring that he’d lost yet again. “I fucking knew it! There’s no way you’re straight with all those clothes and artsy talk.”

Berlin looked at him unimpressed. “If that’s the criteria to judge someone by, you’d be the most heterosexual person I know. Sloppy clothes, no _respect_ for art, vulgar speech.”

Palermo took another swing from the bottle, shrugging his shoulders in the process. “Whatever, I was still right about you.”

“I said I was with a man before, not that I enjoyed it in any way.”

“Woah, woah, woah, hold up.” Palermo put the bottle back on the coffee table and sat up straighter on the couch. “Gimme the deets.”

“Please stop talking like that.”

“Why is it turning you on?” Palermo wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Berlin gave him a silent stare in response.

“Señor de Fenollosa, could you please educate me on your sexual past. I would sincerely appreciate it and will most certainly exchange mine in return.”

Berlin gave a huff in annoyance, although he couldn’t deny how much he liked the attention Palermo was now giving him. His eyes were practically glued to his lips, beckoning Berlin to speak.

“It happened a long time ago, I barely remember it,” Berlin said dismissively, enjoying how badly Palermo wanted to hear this.

“Oh c’mon, Andrés, I’m just trying to better understand you.”

Berlin sighed, deciding to wait a few more seconds before giving Palermo what he wanted. He felt lightheaded. Happy. Maybe even a little bit tipsy.

“When I was just out of high school, I used to frequent this club. A man, Rafael I think his name was, he’d always be there chatting me up, buying me drinks, complimenting everything that I did and hang onto every word that I spoke. Come to think of it, you remind me a bit of him,” Berlin said insultingly, but Palermo only shrugged his comment off.

“I didn’t realize I was your type.”

Berlin scoffed. “Far from it. I wasn’t interested in him.” He took another swig from the bottle before continuing his story. “I went to the club one night- it wasn’t the best night of my life, let’s just say that. Of course, Rafael was there, buying me drinks all night. I didn’t have much to say to him so he started filling the silence, telling me about his day, what he did at work, the model of his car, blablabla. I didn’t care, I just wanted him to shut up. So I said screw it.”

“So you slept with him, huh? Who got to be the top? You’re a fucking control freak, I bet it was you.”

Berlin picked the bottle back up from the table and took a long sip, ignoring Palermo’s piercing stare. “I didn’t sleep with him,” he eventually said. “I pulled him into the bathroom and felt nothing. Even with my dick in his mouth, he wouldn’t stop worshipping me. Kept calling me a god, piece of art. He ended up talking so much that he bit me.”

Palermo snorted. “And then what happened?”

“I broke two of my knuckles punching his teeth out.”

Palermo grinned, showing his teeth and shaking his head. “So he was the only guy?”

Berlin nodded, feeling his brain bouncing around in his head at the action. Tomorrow’s hangover would be absolute hell, his body wasn’t used to drinking copious amounts of hard liquor anymore. “I tried it, didn’t like it.”

“Well in that case,” Palermo grabbed the bottle and held it up to Berlin’s lips. “You need to take another shot because a blowjob does not qualify as getting with a guy. There needs to be at least one ass involved.”

“What about you?” Berlin asked after he diligently swallowed the scotch. “Ever been with a woman?”

Palermo shook his head. “Unless you count my sister’s friend crawling into my bed at a sleepover.”

Berlin chuckled. “What happened there?”

“Nothing! I was home for Christmas, sleeping peacefully in my bed, and suddenly there’s this cold foot pressing against my leg, waking me up. Do you know how fucking creepy it is to wake up and have someone’s face staring right at you in the comfort and safety of your own bed? It scared the shit out of me. I pushed her off the bed so fast, she ended up breaking her arm on the floor and _I_ ended up being the bad guy everyone shat on for the rest of the holiday.”

Berlin grinned at him. In the distance, he could hear the church bells ringing twice. “Speaking of sleep, we should probably call it a night. If I know Sergio, he’s going to want to start working on the plan at the crack of dawn.”

Palermo yawned heartedly as if he’d suddenly remembered that he hadn’t slept in the past 48 hours. “Where are we sleeping anyway?”

The couch they were currently sitting on was a pull-out that Berlin had slept on during his last few visits. Although it wasn’t the most comfortable mattress, it certainly was an upgrade from sleeping on broken kitchen counters. It also was big enough to fit both of them.

“Right here.” Berlin gave the futon a soft pad. “Stick to your side or you can spend the next few weeks sleeping on the floor.”

“As long as you promise not to stare at me creepily.”

*

* * *

**Present**

_One way or another time will bring us back together._ When Berlin had uttered those words, he’d never imagined seeing Palermo this soon again and most certainly not under the given circumstances.

There was no doubt in Berlin’s mind that Palermo was the one who’d committed the theft. And he hadn’t stolen the earrings just for the sake of it. No, it had been a deliberate message for Belin to come and find him. Berlin was sure of it.

Berlin felt a nervous excitement in the pit of his stomach. He might have been able to read Palermo’s mind when the two had seen each other daily, but this? Berlin had no idea whether Palermo would welcome him with open arms or with a gun to his head. Seeing how they’d parted ways, Berlin figured the odds were in favour of the ladder, which was good. Berlin wanted Palermo to be angry at him. He could handle a punch to the face. Berlin knew what to _do_ if Palermo got angry with him.

But anything other than anger Berlin wasn’t ready for. He had no idea how to even prepare himself mentally for it if Palermo did anything else. Kiss him, forgive him, ignore him, cry at the sight of him. Berlin had no fucking idea what he would do then. For now, Berlin decided to simply _not_ consider any of those possibilities. Palermo had sent him a message to find him and he would be angry at Berlin. Berlin would knock on the apartment door -the one Palermo had bought a few years ago- and Palermo would swing it open and throw an uppercut punch to his stomach.

The apartment was another thing Berlin was absolutely sure of. If Palermo was calling out for Berlin, he had to be settled in a place Berlin was familiar with. It would be too much of a game for Palermo to wait for him anywhere in public. But then again, maybe he wanted Berlin to put in the effort to find him. Maybe Palermo was expecting him to spend several days searching for him as a test.

Berlin was slowly starting to doubt himself. His feet were itching to turn around and run back to the ticket counter. His flight should be headed to the place furthest away from Sicily, not toward it.

“Excuse me, do you mind if we cut in front of you? My husband has trouble standing.” A raspy voice and a strong tap on his shoulder brought Berlin back to reality and forced him to turn around and pretend that he wasn’t absolutely losing his shit on the inside.

Berlin smiled gently at the lady who was standing behind him in the security line at the airport, looking at him expectantly. Her left arm was wrapped tightly around her husband, keeping the old man steady on his feet. Berlin felt a pang of jealousy at the sight of the old couple.

His eyes flickered to the golden wedding band on the woman’s ring finger. The back of her hand was wrinkly, covered in age spots and thin veins. She must have been around eighty years old. Berlin wouldn’t even get to live past fifty. Had he lived a mundane lifestyle, he’d be dead before reaching retirement.

Even if Berlin would be able to work things out with Palermo, even if they allowed themselves to be together, what would be the point? Berlin would be gone in a few years. They could never be this old couple that Berlin was currently looking at. Travelling together, supporting another, most likely dying in a nursing home together with their kids and grandchildren visiting every Sunday until they’d reached their final days. That could never be them.

The best Berlin could offer Palermo was half of this experience. Berlin in the wheelchair, pathetically dying as his body gave up on him with nothing to leave behind except a trail of ex-wives. Palermo would probably leave him before they ever got to that stage.

At least Berlin still had the heist on the mint to leave as his legacy. If he was going to die soon, he’d make sure all of Spain would remember his name for years to come.

“Signore?” The woman gave him a concerned look.

“Of course,” Berlin plastered a charming smile on his face and stepped to the side to allow space for the two to walk ahead. “Please, go ahead.”

He watched the couple pass by a few more people before they disappeared from Berlin's view.

The airport was as busy as Berlin had expected it to be at lunchtime on a Friday. Thankfully, his flight to Sicily wouldn’t depart for another few hours, so at least he didn’t have to worry about missing it.

After Berlin passed the security zone, there was nothing left to do for him except wait at his gate.

He spent the first hour striding aimlessly around retail stores, not interested in anything he saw on display. Bored and hungry, Berlin opted to go to the food area next, where the air was filled with the scent of freshly baked pastries, bread and pressed coffee beans. Berlin’s stomach ached with desire at the smell. He needed some caffeine in him and he could definitely eat something as well.

The line at each shop was long, but Berlin, for once, had nothing better to do with his time. He picked a bakery at random and strode toward the long line-up. Something, however, caught his eye that made him stop midway and rush over to a different bakery without thinking twice.

Trying to catch his breath quietly, Berlin took his place behind the redheaded woman waiting in line.

“I can never decide between a cappuccino and a latte,” Berlin mused, waiting for a reaction from her before he kept going. “What do you think? After all, you as my other half should know me better than I know myself.”

His smirk stayed confidently in place even as Tatiana spun around and her furious brown eyes met his. “Are you following me?”

Berlin put his hands up in mock surrender. “I was just following my heart, mi amor.” Then, his expression turned serious. “What did he say to you?”

For a brief second, Tatiana’s angry snarl was replaced with confusion. “What?”

“Martín. What did he say to you? Or did you get struck with amnesia one night and couldn’t find your way back to your husband?”

That earned him a scoff followed by a raised eyebrow. “Why don’t you ask him yourself? Don’t tell me you two are keeping secrets from each other now.”

Berlin gave her a teasing smile. “A secret here and there does add a little bit of excitement to a relationship, especially when it’s shared between two parties.”

Another huff, Tatiana placed her hands on her hips, her eyes darting across the terminal, not looking at Berlin until she had gained full control over herself again. The stare he was met with was ice cold. “I do love a good secret as long as it’s properly kept. You know how much I despise gossip, and usually, that’s what a secret turns into when someone spills it.”

Berlin was getting more confident that his suspicion had been right. Tatiana and Palermo had definitely spoken to each other, otherwise, she wouldn’t keep implying the fact that she knew something that Berlin didn’t.

“I’ll promise to keep my mouth shut if you share the secret with me.” His voice was a soft, persuasive purr.

“But you can’t, Andrés. You couldn’t keep your fucking mouth shut and that’s the whole fucking problem.” Her brown eyes started to turn watery. Berlin just hoped she wouldn’t begin to cry and cause a scene that would make him look bad in front of all the other travellers.

Reassuringly, Berlin tried to take her hand, but Tatiana pulled away as if an electric shock had gone through her. “Don’t you dare fucking touch me again! I’ll file a restraining order on top of the divorce papers!”

Whatever Palermo had told her must have been bad. Although, it wasn’t Palermo’s style to make up lies about other people and Berlin, for the life of him, couldn’t think of anything he had recently done that would make Tatiana feel so betrayed and angry at him.

His silence only made Tatiana more exasperated. “How long has it been going on for, huh? I fucking trusted you with him. I trusted you, while you two were fucking behind my back this entire goddamn time!”

Her hand shot up half-way into the air, instinctively Berlin covered his fist over it and held it back down. He probably deserved to get slapped for this, but a crowded airport certainly wasn’t the right place for it.

“He told you about the kiss?” His voice was steady, calm. Out of all the things Palermo could have told her, this was the one Berlin had thought Palermo would keep to himself.

Berlin had rejected Palermo, it didn’t make sense for Palermo to flaunt that unless he had twisted the truth a little. But, even if, it still didn’t explain why Tatiana had blindly trusted Palermo’s story. The two of them hadn’t exactly been friends.

“I saw you,” Tatiana whispered, her voice weak.

 _Well that explains it,_ Berlin thought bitterly.

“I left my purse in the chapel so I went back to grab it. We were supposed to meet for dinner, remember?”

“I remember,” Berlin admitted quietly. His hand was still wrapped around hers and he missed the familiar cold touch of her skin against his. Berlin wished he could relive the memories they’d shared together and the love he’d felt.

Looking at her now, Berlin wondered if he had ever _truly_ loved Tatiana. Compared to his love for Palermo, it didn’t seem possible. Yet, Berlin felt a hint of sorrow at the sight presented in front of him. He’d never seen Tatiana look so small and drawn into herself.

“I saw how you touched him. I heard the way you-,” Tatiana stopped and took a deep breath. “I loved you with all of my heart, Andrés, and I thought you did too. I thought the way you looked at me was special, that _I_ was special to you. But it was just another fucking heist wasn’t it? Just a trick to see how much you could take out of me.”

“No, no, no. Tatiana, listen to me, that’s no true. I truly did love you, I-“

This time, Tatiana was faster than him. She pulled her hand away from Berlin’s and a quick slap hit him across his face.

“I’m flying out to France today. I don’t care what the fuck you do or with whom, but leave me the hell out of it and stay the fuck away from me.”

With that, she walked away, leaving Berlin speechless. His eyes followed her until she disappeared into the crowd of people with long, determined steps.

*


	13. Chapter 13

**Past**

“What about him?” Palermo stopped taking a sip of his drink mid-air and pointed his pinky at a man who’d just walked into the restaurant.

Berlin’s eyes quickly ran over the man’s physique. He had a short, black beard, big nose, dark gelled back hair, that came with a tall, broad-shouldered, muscular body.

“No.”

“Oh c’mon, amigo,” Palermo slammed his glass down in frustration. “You’re being too picky! What’s wrong with this one?”

Berlin quickly shovelled some food in his mouth and chewed carefully to win himself a few seconds to provide some reasoning for his answer. “I don’t like beards,” he eventually stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. It was true, he really didn’t.

Palermo gave him a stunned look, his eyes leaving Berlin’s and checking out the guy again who was now sitting a few tables away from them. “Really? I like beards. It makes them look so scruffy and _manly_.”

Berlin raised an eyebrow, a faux look of confusion written on his face. “Makes you wonder why he’s not my type then. Usually the dirtier and manlier a person, the more aroused I become.”

“I’m just saying you have bad taste in men. At least we don’t have to worry about us every fighting over the same guy.”

“It also rules out the possibility of us ever having a threesome,” Berlin winked at him and watched in amusement as Palermo began to blush.

“I’m sure we’ll find you someone eventually,” Palermo said after he’d taken another long sip of his drink.

“I’m not gay, Martín.”

“Yesterday you said you were willing to try it out. _Properly_ this time.

“I don’t think you should read too much into what I say when I’m drunk and half-asleep.”

“Well, would you or would you not?” Palermo gave him a cocky grin. “To be or not to be queer, that is the question.”

“I don’t think I would rule a person’s attractiveness out strictly based on their gender. _However,_ ” Berlin stressed the word to make sure Palermo was getting the message, “what I like in a person I’ve so far only ever found in women.”

“It only takes one. Maybe it’s the guy right there in the suit heading for the restroom?”

“Too tall.”

“Bullshit,” Palermo hung his head back. “Don’t tell me you’ve never been with a woman taller than you.”

Berlin shook his head. “Never have, never will.”

Palermo sighed in frustration. “Whatever, I’m sure we’ll find a gay short man with no facial hair for you in no time.”

Berlin pursed his lips, smirking as his eyes ran up and down Palermo, taking in his smoothly shaven face and average height. Maybe all the other men weren’t Berlin’s type, but there was something about Palermo… Berlin couldn’t quite put a finger on what exactly it was, but he most certainly wanted to throw his entire body at it.

“Sorry for the delay, I ran over the statistics again, and I think your suggestion, Martín, might actually work.”

Before Berlin could step up the little game he was playing with Palermo, Sergio joined their table. He must have noticed that he was interrupting something as he looked intrigued at the both of them.

“Did I miss something?”

Palermo grinned at Berlin, his eyes shining with mischief. “Sergio! You came just at the right time. We’ve been busy playing Bachelor for Andrés, unfortunately with futile results. Your opinion as the future brother-in-law is of utter importance to us.” Sergio looked at Palermo as if he’d lost his mind, which only fuelled Palermo to keep his act going. “What do you think, Sergio? Andrés has been _very_ picky today but I think this fine gentleman over there might just be the perfect suitor for him. Look at that jawline and how far he’s shoving that fork into his mouth, I bet you could fit a full nine-”

Sergio lifted both hands, begging Palermo to stop. “Excuse me, Martín. Do you mind if I speak with Andrés alone for a moment?”

Palermo craned his neck to look at the bearded man again. “Of course, Sergio. You know where to find me.” He grinned and winked at Berlin before striding over to the other table.

“Andrés, what the fuck?” Sergio hissed, as soon as Palermo was out of earshot.

Berlin sighed. “Ignore him, Sergio. I’m just trying to keep him occupied. He’s like a little child that won’t sit still even if you put him right in front of a TV.”

“Is it true though? I mean, are you…?”

Berlin laughed, ridiculing the idea. “Of course not, I-”

“Because if you are, it’s 100% okay with me. You’re my brother, I love you regardless of who you are attracted to.”

Berlin licked his lower lip, bit down on it on one side, and gave his brother a half-smile. “That’s very sweet of you, hermanito. But the only thing that needs to get out of the closet is this suit you’re wearing. If you’re refusing to add any colour to your wardrobe at least wear something that fits. Spending half your time in a hospital gown is not an excuse anymore to dress like that.”

Sergio pulled his chin to his chest to get a proper look at himself. “What’s wrong with the blazer? Actually, forget the blazer! You’re trying to steer me off topic again.”

Berlin smirked in response. Whatever Sergio wanted to talk to him about couldn’t be pleasant if Palermo wasn’t allowed to hear it.

“I don’t think having Martín join us on the heist is a good idea, Andrés.”

Berlin sighed and rolled his eyes. “This again? I thought we’ve talked about it last night. Didn’t you just say you liked his idea?”

“I do. He’s smart, I’m certainly not denying that we can use him for the plan.”

“But?”

Sergio pushed his glasses back with his index finger. “He’s not taking this seriously. He’s already playing games with you to keep himself entertained, he’s not going to commit the next few years to the plan, Andrés.”

“I can assure you, Martín is not playing any games with me.”

Sergio raised a doubtful eyebrow. “So it’s common for you now to stay up all night and play drinking games and talk about men you’d hypothetically sleep with?”

The way Sergio phrased it, did make it sound a bit like Palermo was controlling Berlin’s behaviour. He was playing Palermo’s game, had been playing it since the jewellery show. Berlin didn’t like the aspect of it one bit.

“Did it ever occur to you that I might be the one who’s bored and using Martín as a distraction?” Berlin sighed in frustration. “I don’t think giving up Martín’s contribution is something we can afford to lose. His passion for the heist might resemble childish excitement that could soon fade away, but his ideas for the plan are not a joke, Sergio.”

“I know,” Sergio admitted quietly. “But it’s too much of a risk to put him in the mint. His actions are far too erratic and he obviously has a mind of his own that will make him completely uncontrollable in there.”

“That’s years from now, Sergio! Don’t worry about all that stuff, we’ll deal with it when the time comes. For now, he’s not putting anyone at risk by helping us plan this thing.”

“I guess you’re right. Just promise me you won’t do anything reckless with him while we work together. I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

Sergio's comment caught Berlin by surprise. Palermo made no effort to hide his attraction for Berlin, Berlin wasn’t shocked that Sergio had caught onto it as well. What did surprise him was that Sergio apparently thought it was important enough to discuss in regard to the heist.

“And what look is that?” Berlin asked cautiously.

“He obviously likes you, Andrés. We cannot sabotage the plan by having any personal feelings involved.”

“I know that.”

“So put an end to whatever game he’s playing with you and act like a goddamn professional. You barely got away with the necklace because of him. We can’t bear that same risk in the mint.”

Sergio’s words stung Berlin’s ego but he had to admit there was some truth found in them. Berlin had noticed himself getting more and more careless and carried away around Palermo and he couldn’t afford to be this reckless. Hell, he’d known Palermo for a couple of days now, if Berlin didn’t put a stop to their game at once, who knew what would happen after months or years of working with Palermo.

“I promise I won’t let him play matchmaker for me again, and, from now on, I’ll be on my very best behaviour around him. Happy?” Berlin smiled easily and resisted the urge to look over to the other table, where Palermo had taken a seat next to the bearded man.

*

* * *

**Present**

Sicily greeted Berlin with rain and gusting wind. He’d hailed a cab before he even knew where to go and now the driver was looking back at him with an expecting look on his face.

“Grand Hotel Wagner, please.”

Although he landed in the afternoon, the grey clouds hanging low in the sky made it seem much later in the day. The streets were dark as they drove through them, the traffic merging into an incomprehensible mess as the pouring rain covered pavement markings.

The flight had been a turbulent one. Berlin had spent most of it reassuring his seat neighbour, calming the little girl down, promising her that everything would be okay, when, deep down, Berlin needed to hear those words just as badly.

The girl’s parents had sat in front of him, making weak attempts at calming their constantly crying baby down and sending him grateful smiles for taking care of their daughter. Berlin had been naïve in thinking he could use the flight to straighten out his thoughts.

He stared out the cab’s back window, watching the rain droplets run down the glass. As much as he wanted to get this over with, see Palermo and find out just what the fuck was going on, Berlin didn’t feel ready. He’d left Alessia and the hotel in a rush. He’d bought the ticket without even thinking twice about it. And now Berlin was here with no strategy and no objective. He had followed Palermo’s call like a fucking dog running back to its owner.

He needed to take some time for himself, get some rest, and think this through properly. Running straight to Palermo’s apartment -especially in this weather, when Berlin would only get there soaked and looking like a complete mess- was a terrible idea.

“That’ll be eight euros.”

Berlin handed over a ten euro bill and scrambled out of the cab, running to the marble entrance as the first lightning bolt lit up the street.

*

He purposely left the blinds up and the window a crack open. Berlin had always liked the sound of heavy rain falling out of the sky and hearing the thunder rolling. He couldn’t understand how some people were frightened by this kind of weather, Berlin found a certain sense of mindfulness in it.

Just watching the rain splash against the window and counting the seconds after each strike of lightning felt peaceful to him. Even if he didn’t know how soon or loud the thunder would be, it would inevitably come. The two were always linked together. Storms always brought chaos with them, making people act scared, hectic, forcing them to pack their things up and hide, and yet, there was so much order in a storm that never ceased to fascinate Berlin.

He watched in amazement not even bothering to steer his thoughts toward anything else. He didn’t think of Palermo, Tatiana, Sergio, the heist. He didn’t fight his heavy eyelids and heavy body. Berlin let his body slip into a dreamless sleep and didn’t wake up again until the clouds in the sky had disappeared and the sun was shining brightly through the open window.

Berlin stayed in bed for a while, not wanting to leave the comfy mattress and soft bedsheets just yet. He didn’t have to check the digital alarm clock on the nightstand to confirm that this had been the most he’d slept in the past few weeks. Slowly, Berlin pushed the sheets away and sat on the side of the bed. His mind still felt a bit hazy, although the details from yesterday were starting to come back to him.

The hotel he was currently staying at was much bigger than the locally owned one he’d met Alessia in yesterday. Berlin got to his feet and stalked over to the small office desk and chair by the bathroom. On it, he found some tourist attraction pamphlets, city maps, coupons for restaurants and museums, and -finally- the hotel information that contained the hours for the dining hall, the kitchen’s menu and the number to call for room service.

Berlin had nothing against going down to the dining hall, but he’d woken up feeling contempt. There was a certain lightness in his mind and body that had been missing these last few days. He wanted to sustain that feeling for as long as possible. Taking a nice, long shower and having coffee and breakfast waiting for him in his room would likely keep his good mood afloat.

Once in the shower with the hot water pouring down on his body, Palermo was the last thing Berlin wanted to think of. He still had no idea what to say to him, what to do, what he wanted to get out of all this. However, Berlin had flown here with some sort of purpose in mind, so the least he could do was figure out the most rational way to justify his actions.

He shut the shower off with a sigh, wrapping the white towel around his waist and tapped barefoot out of the misty bathroom. The americano and toast were waiting for him on a wooden tray, making the room smell of fresh bread and strongly brewed coffee.

Berlin took his time eating and watched glimpses of the news as he got dressed.

It wasn’t until much later in the day when Berlin finally decided to put his coat on and leave the hotel. He hailed for a cab to take him to an address that he hoped, with trepidation, would bring him face-to-face with Palermo again.

*


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Halfway point of the story! Warning for minor substance abuse for this chapter

**Past**

“What do you say we go and explore the city for a bit, huh?” Palermo grinned at him from where he was lazily sprawled out on the couch. The green denim dress shirt he was wearing complimented his eyes flawlessly. Watching Palermo pick out clothes had been an absolute headache, but at least the end result was pleasing. Berlin felt much better himself now that he wasn’t confined to wearing his brother’s clothes anymore.

Berlin closed the book he was reading and put it on the wooden end table next to the armchair he was currently sitting in. Even though he had told Sergio not to worry about what Palermo’s behaviour would be like in the mint, Berlin couldn’t shake the worry off himself.

He’d noticed Palermo growing more and more restless lately. Since the shopping trip, they’d been stuck in this house, working day and night on the heist. Berlin could use some fresh air as well.

However, he was curious to see Palermo’s reaction and test Sergio’s theory. Berlin slowly shook his head at Palermo’s question. “Why don’t we enjoy the evening inside?”

Palermo, as predicted, groaned in response. “We’ve been stuck in this house for _days_. I’m bored, Andrés. I already know every nook and cranny of this place. There’s nothing to do here except talk about the fucking plan.”

Berlin raised an eyebrow at him, somewhat disappointed that Palermo was proving his suspicion right.

“What do you think it’ll be like in the mint? You’ll be locked up for two weeks. Not to mention in hideout for the rest of your life if we get out of there alive.”

“I don’t think I’ll be spending much time hanging out on a couch during a heist on the Royal fucking Mint of Spain,” Palermo retorted.

“No,” Berlin’s voice stayed calm. “You’ll be babysitting fifty-some hostages. Dressing them, feeding them, taking them to the bathroom and making sure they don’t piss themselves.”

“Well in that case,” Palermo sat up on the couch, leaning against the back of it. He gave Berlin a calculating look, more daring than angry. “Maybe we should start practicing that too until every fucking _permissible_ response to a hostage is brainwashed into me.”

“Now, that doesn’t sound like a bad idea.”

“You can play the lead role as the hostage, of course. I know how much you love the spotlight. But I’d be the one in control. Wait, no.” Palermo furrowed his brows, pursing his lips in mock pondering about the idea. “You wouldn’t be able to act in that role. Maybe if we made you the alpha hostage or something. You know how there’s always that one guy who wants to play the hero and can’t take any fucking orders from anyone but himself? You could play that role.”

Berlin could feel his heartbeat picking up, the blood rushing through him, his thoughts short-circuiting. He tried to stay calm and keep control over his anger. Palermo was just trying to provoke him on purpose, to cure his own boredom and win whatever argument they seemed to be having. Berlin wouldn’t do him the favour of losing.

Berlin put a wide smile on his face. “What an excellent thought! Please just keep in mind that not our alpha hostage alone will lose his fear around us. When they realize we haven’t shot anyone yet, they will all become bolder and begin to defy us.”

“I can handle the hostages,” Palermo assured him through gritted teeth.

Berlin continued speaking as if Palermo hadn’t interrupted him. “They will provoke and annoy you at the most stressful times when you haven’t slept for days. And you’ll have nothing to shut them up but mere threats. Zero violence. The instant you hurt one of them or stray even the slightest from the plan, it’s game over.”

“Sorry, can you repeat that last bit one more time? I don’t think I’ve heard it enough over these last few days. Maybe tomorrow you can teach me how to use a gun, as well? I’m obviously completely inept in doing anything at all in your eyes.”

Berlin could detect some honest frustration in Palermo’s voice. Berlin sighed in resignation. If Berlin kept pushing Palermo, Palermo would probably lose it again and walk out on Berlin and God only knew what chaos and headache Palermo would create for them then. “You know that’s not how I think of you,” Berlin said with an exaggerated eye roll, giving up the argument.

“Oh yeah? Then tell me,” Palermo’s mood changed instantly at those words, his eyes boring into Berlin’s with the slightest hint of a smile teasing his lips. “How do you think of me?”

Berlin caught himself staring right at Palermo’s mouth and he quickly looked away. He thought back to his conversation with Sergio. They weren’t supposed to play this game anymore. Berlin needed to watch what he said around Palermo.

“I don’t,” he answered hastily, rushing the words out before he could think of something cleverer to respond with.

Palermo didn’t fail to notice. The smirk only grew wider as he stood up and strode over to him, casually sitting down on the left arm rest, looking at Berlin from only a few inches away. “No?” He threw his arm over the back of the chair, leaning further into Berlin’s space. “That hurts me to hear. I thought we were becoming good friends.”

Berlin’s personal space felt invaded. His heart was beating way too fast at their sudden proximity. He needed to get himself under control. This… wasn’t like him. He kept letting Palermo get under his skin, messing with his head, and now Palermo had even accomplished to render him speechless.

Berlin took a deep breath but then changed his mind, making a complete one-eighty. _Fuck it._ One more round of playing games surely couldn’t hurt. He ignored the dryness in his mouth and forced an even bigger smile on his face in return. “Is that what you want us to be?”

He watched as Palermo licked his lips, his eyes running over Berlin’s face, taking it all in as if he was looking at it for the first time. There was no façade on Palermo’s face this time, his expression a hopeful curiosity. “Are you offering me anything else?”

Softly, Berlin rested his hand on Palermo’s thigh. He leaned in closer to him, lips hovering right above Palermo’s, whose breath audibly hitched. Their eyes locked and Berlin could see the different shades of green in his eyes. He waited until Palermo began tilting his head slightly, his eyes fluttering shut, leaning in softly.

“No, of course not!” Berlin laughed maliciously at him and drew his hand back. “I’m surprised you have to ask.”

Abruptly, Palermo withdrew himself from him and stood back up, leaving the left side of Berlin’s body feeling empty and cold.

Palermo picked up his jacked off the couch, deliberately not looking at Berlin, and walked into the hallway.

“Where are you going?” Berlin yelled after him.

“A walk.”

“Mind if I join?” The words were coming out of Berlin’s mouth before he could stop them. Maybe he’d taken the joke too far. Palermo was obviously upset with him, and a big part of Berlin didn’t want to watch Palermo leave the house alone tonight. Who knew what he’d do without Berlin’s supervision. Sergio would kill him if Palermo did something stupid that would attract too much attention. Besides, Belin would have to leave the house tonight anyway.

“I can give you a tour of the city.”

Palermo’s back was to him, but Berlin could hear the sigh and soft hanging of the head in defeat. “I’d like that.”

*

* * *

**Present**

The exterior of the apartment building hadn’t changed much since Berlin had last seen it, and so there wasn’t any doubt in his mind that he was indeed at the right location. Someone had left the front door ajar, allowing Berlin to easily enter the building and make his way up the creaking, old wooden staircase leading to the second floor.

A small window at the end of the floor brought little light into the hallway. It was late in the evening, Berlin could smell suppers being made, voices talking in different apartments, footsteps stomping over his head.

He stopped at the wooden door that led to Palermo’s apartment. He knocked on the door twice and waited with his heart beating violently in his throat.

Berlin stood quietly, holding his breath, trying to catch any sound coming from the other side of the door. Maybe Palermo had gone out. Maybe he’d never been here to begin with.

The door remained shut and everything behind it quiet. Berlin didn’t know if the feeling in the pit of his stomach was due to disappointment or relief.

Determinedly and hanging on to the last shred of hope, Berlin knocked again. This time he did it louder with more force, his knuckles painfully punching against the wood.

A shuffle. Footsteps.

The door opened.

Palermo looked at him with bloodshot eyes and messy hair. His white dressed shirt was tucked out of his pants and its sleeves were undone. A wet stain was on his chest, making the spot transparent and showing a glimpse of skin through the thin fabric.

A wide grin spread over Palermo’s lips as recognition crossed his features. He pulled Berlin in for a tight hug and inside the apartment.

“I almost gave up hope that you’d show up,” Palermo laughed against his ear and Berlin could smell the alcohol on his breath.

Palermo let go of him after a few, too short seconds and walked across the apartment toward the kitchen area.

Berlin shut the door and tried to gather his thoughts. His eyes roamed over the floor, which changed from brown planks to white tiles to green carpet; a cheap attempt at distinguishing the different living areas.

The apartment was exactly the way Berlin remembered and it made him feel less alien while he stood there awkwardly by the door unsure of where to go. The place needed to be renovated and refurnished- something Berlin had told Palermo when he’d first bought it. The walls were still divided in the same ugly shade of brown and grey, the lightbulb on the ceiling was still dim and naked and missing a cone. The two small windows were still hidden behind long, white curtains and offering little light. One of these curtains was swaying swiftly, the window behind it slightly open and allowing the faint sound of five o’clock traffic to enter the room.

Other than the alternation in flooring, there was no clear distinction of where one area was supposed to begin and another to end. The furniture was strewn at random across the apartment. The shelves that greeted Berlin when he first entered were cluttered with papers, the white, loudly humming fridge only a few steps away, the rusty, metal table and the few chairs were asymmetrically placed around the kitchen, and the living area with its velvet couch was just across from it.

Before Berlin could explain his reasoning for coming, Palermo grabbed something off the kitchen table and held the two pieces, one in each hand, up in the air for Berlin to see. Berlin recognized the emerald earrings from the news channel.

“These are for you, querido.”

And just like that, Palermo dropped both pieces unceremoniously on the floor and looked down at them with utter disgust. As if nothing had happened, he walked back to Berlin who was still standing by the side of the door. Palermo stopped a few feet away from him and looked Berlin up and down, his expression impossible to make out.

“You know what I was thinking?” Palermo’s voice was gruff. His eyes kept flickering over Berlin’s features, taking in every sign and switch of emotion he found there.

“All these years, I’ve never worn the necklace once. I thought it’s because I had nothing to match it with. So I found something. A perfect set. And then I destroyed it.” Palermo gestured to the floor. A stone sledgehammer and broken pieces of emerald were scattered around the apartment. If Berlin hadn’t known better, it would have been impossible for him to tell that the shards of glistering diamond and stones had once been the most beautiful necklace he’d ever laid eyes on.

“Now don’t look at it with remorse, Andrés. We both know this isn’t something you ever truly cared about.”

“Did you honestly think that a kiss could change how I feel about you?” Berlin said, tearing his gaze off the floor and back to Palermo’s empty, green eyes.

Palermo laughed bitterly, shaking his head. “No, no, you made that pretty clear, remember? _It’s impossible, Martín, I feel nothing_. Do you know how many times those words ran through my fucking head?” He pointed at his temple with trembling fingers, mimicking a gun.

Berlin opened his mouth but the words -already formed on his tongue- were too scared to come out now. _I lied,_ he wanted to say, _all these years, I’ve felt everything for you._

Palermo’s fingers were still pressed to his temple, his whole arm shaking slightly. With slow steps and holding his hands up to his sides, Berlin inched closer to him. He just needed to distract Palermo, calm him down.

“Hey,” Berlin cooed softly, his brown eyes never leaving Palermo’s whose look remained hopeless. “When’s the last time you left the apartment, huh?”

Palermo shrugged his shoulders, eyeing the shortening distance between them carefully, shooting Berlin a warning look that made him stop his movement. Palermo’s hands grabbed for the nearest bottle of vodka of which he took a long sip of.

“You said you loved me,” Palermo noted dully.

“And I meant it. I still do, Martín.”

Palermo threw the bottle against the wall. The glass smashed and mingled between the already broken pieces of jewellery on the floor. The leftover vodka ran slowly down the tapestry, leaving a large, wet spot on the tapestry.

They both watched the drops running down on to the floor, gradually making their way through the shards. It was quiet for a while, Palermo’s erratic breathing slowly grew deeper and quieter.

“Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs,” he finally quoted, his voice flat, eyes still on the ground.

Berlin faintly recognized the line and couldn’t help but give Palermo a small, proud smile when he realized whom Palermo was quoting. “Don’t tell me you’ve finally given Shakespeare a try.”

“Romeo and Juliet seemed like a good place to start. I made it through the entire first scene before I let myself give up. I suppose poetry just isn’t for me.” He shrugged his shoulder in nonchalance.

Berlin watched as Palermo dragged himself past him, carelessly bumping against his shoulder on his way across the room to open the fridge.

“Hijo de puta!” Palermo slammed the door shut with a cry. “That was my last bottle.”

“Let’s get you a new one. It was a bit rude of me to come here empty-handed.”

Palermo laughed bitterly. “First, I actually manage to drag you down here and now you’re offering to run my errands?” Palermo turned around and eyed Berlin carefully. “What the hell is really going on here, huh? What did you come here to tell me?”

*


	15. Chapter 15

**Past**

Berlin had never seen Palermo stay this quiet around him. They’d been walking through dimly lit streets for a good thirty minutes now and Palermo hadn’t said a single word to him. He had expected himself to enjoy the stillness and revel in the fact that he’d finally gotten Palermo to shut up for once, but instead, Berlin felt uneasy, almost uncomfortable in the atmosphere he had created between them.

The evening breeze was not too cold, but chilly enough for Berlin to wish he’d worn a thicker jacket. A quick look at his watch told him they still had some time to waste and Berlin had no desire to get there too early.

It was time to break the silence.

“The Golden City,” Berlin began theatrically, reaching both his hands out like P. T. Barnum presenting his circus. “Home of the infamous El Lute.”

“Who?”

“El Lute,” Berlin repeated. “He was Spain’s most wanted man at one point.”

Palermo gave him a puzzled look.

“He was born here.”

Palermo’s blank look made Berlin want to roll his eyes, but then he got a better idea. “ _He was only nineteen and was sentenced to die, for something that somebody else did and blamed El Lute,”_ Berlin began to sing the ballad, grinning at Palermo as he did so.

Palermo’s facial expression didn’t change, if anything, he looked even more confused.

Berlin stopped singing, unable to recall the next words to the song. “He was an illiterate peasant in the sixties. After a robbery at a jewellery store, he was convicted of killing one of the guards. He became a symbol of resistance when he escaped from prison,” he explained to Palermo.

“Did they catch him?”

Berlin nodded, trying to remember the details. “I believe he was on the run for a couple of years before they found him. But you know what he did once he was back in prison?”

Palermo didn’t bother to ask what. He patiently waited for Berlin to keep talking, giving Berlin all his attention, which he immensely enjoyed having back on him.

“He taught himself to read and write and became a lawyer,” Berlin laughed. “Isn’t that wonderful?”

Palermo smiled at him, a hint of amazement in his eyes, before he started shaking his head. “If this is your idea of giving a city tour, you have lots to learn.”

“Well then,” Berlin cleared his throat, relieved to have Palermo back to his normal self again. “We’re starting this tour on the infamous street called-” His eyes looked over Palermo’s head, trying to make out the street sign attached to the lamppost. “Calle Fer-, no Ber.” Berlin gave up but offered Palermo a charming smile instead. “Buenos Aires, that’s where we are, amigo.”

Palermo quirked an eyebrow. “So much has changed since I’ve been here last. I can barely recognize it.” His voice was dripping with sarcasm.

“I’m serious.”

But Palermo didn’t take him seriously. “It’s good to be back home. Do you think we can stop by my father’s house quickly?”

“This neighbourhood is called Buenos Aires. I’m not fucking with you!” Berlin laughed, wishing he’d brought a map with him so he could point his finger at their current location and laugh in Palermo’s face some more.

Palermo groaned. “Did we really just walk all the way here just for you to make that joke?”

“No, we’re here to meet a friend.”

Palermo didn’t even try to hide his confusion anymore. “How? When the fuck did you have time to arrange a meeting? It was my suggestion to got for a walk, a fucking spontaneous suggestion at that!”

Berlin placed his hand on Palermo’s shoulder in a pitying manner. “Have you ever considered that you might actually be a very predictable man? Besides, it’s not the best idea to stroll around this neighbourhood alone, especially at night,” Berlin smirked. “So I do appreciate you offering to accompany me tonight.” He watched as Palermo scanned their surroundings more calculatingly at his words.

There was a park -if you could even call it that- on one side of the street. A few picnic benches were placed around some trees that were swaying ominously in the night. On the other side of the street stood a big, brick building, the fence around it covered in graffiti. The large parking lot next to the building was empty except for one, old white VW Golf that looked like it hadn’t been moved in a while.

“What’s wrong with this neighbourhood?” Palermo asked, unable to decide what to make of the scene presented in front of him.

Berlin ignored his question, pointing instead at the entrance of the building they were now standing in front of. _Colegio P. Buenos Aires Educacion Infantil y Primaria._ The sign was hard to make out even with the few streetlights around them. “See,” he grinned at Palermo. “I told you we’re in Buenos Aires.”

Palermo had to squint his eyes to read the letters. “A school?” A bubbly laugh erupted out of him. “Exactly how old is that friend of yours?” Palermo teased, but despite his nonchalant attitude, Berlin could detect a serious undertone in his voice.

Berlin opted to not answer that question either. Even though they’d been spending the last week together never leaving each other’s side for too long, Berlin still had difficulties when it came to properly assess Palermo’s reactions to things. It was best to just stay quiet and let Palermo figure it out on his own.

Berlin pulled up his sleeves and checked his watch again. “We might have to wait a few minutes- what the hell are you doing?”

Berlin had let him out of his sight for two seconds and Palermo was already halfway up the red, metal fence.

“Exploring. Gotta kill the time somehow, right?”

Berlin had to suppress a sigh. Maybe he shouldn’t have brought Palermo with him. It had been a rash decision of him. He should have just let Palermo go on his walk and then meet Sofio alone, like he had originally planned to.

“Are you coming or not?” Palermo shouted from the other side of the fence.

Before Berlin could decide between climbing a school fence or risking whatever Palermo would do if left alone, Berlin heard the sound of a car engine.

A black Audi pulled up right in front of Berlin. The engine was turned off and the driver’s door was pushed open. Black boots, long legs covered in denim, and a red leather jacket stepped out.

“Sofia,” Berlin greeted her with a smile. Her hair had gotten much longer since Berlin had last seen her, the straight black strands falling over her shoulder like a curtain made out of silk.

“Andrés, mi amor,” she purred, covering the rest of the distance between them and giving him a quick kiss on each cheek. “It’s so good to see you again.”

“You know I can’t resist you for too long,” Berlin said charmingly, allowing both his hands to rest on her waist. Sofia’s back was to the school, her body just a few inches away from the fence.

Berlin inconspicuously tried to locate Palermo’s small frame behind her, but no luck. _Fuck_. Palermo must have run somewhere off without him. _Jesus fucking Christ_. Berlin didn’t want to spend the rest of the night looking for him and bailing him out of whatever trouble he would most definitely get himself into.

The two hadn’t even started the actual part of the heist together yet and already Berlin felt the burden of constantly having Palermo’s back. He should just let Palermo do whatever. Get himself beaten up. Arrested. Killed. If Berlin was going to protect Palermo until the end of the heist, the next few years were going to be long ones.

Berlin tried to calm his nerves and re-think. Theoretically, he really didn’t need to care about Palermo’s well-being until they were actually in the mint together. If Palermo couldn’t keep himself safe until then, he obviously wasn’t the right person to be involved in the heist and Berlin would have no ethical responsibility if he just returned to Sergio’s after he’d met up with Sofia. If Palermo wasn’t waiting for him there, so what? Berlin would get to have the couch to himself tonight, that’s what.

 _Still_. Something was tugging at Berlin’s conscious and worry was clouding his mind. He’d brought Palermo here with him. Palermo’s safety was his responsibility.

He tried to remain calm. Sofia didn’t seem to have taken any notice of Palermo’s existence and Berlin wanted to keep it that way. He had to get rid of Sofia quickly and then search for Palermo. Hopefully, he was just running around somewhere inside the school.

“What’s wrong?” Sofia asked. Berlin had almost forgotten to keep the constant smile on his lips. The back of Sofia’s hand stroked over his cheek, her skin feeling smooth against his stubbles. Her brown, calculating eyes bored into Berlin’s for answers.

He picked up a few strands of her hair, letting it run through his fingers. “You let your hair grow out.”

“What? Don’t you like it?” Her voice sounded teasing.

“I do.”

Sofia dropped her eyes, leaning further into Berlin. “How much do you like it?”

Berlin quirked an eyebrow. Her tone was becoming uncharacteristically flirtatious. His mind, however, was still on Palermo. Berlin ignored the way her finger lazily trailed over the side of his jaw and focused instead to get straight to the point of this meetup. He knew Sofia well enough to know she hadn’t just asked him to come for the sake of good old times. There was always a favor that came along with it. “What do you need, Sofia?”

“What do I _want_ , is the right question, amor.”

Berlin bit his lip, smiling. “Then tell me,” his voice was a soft whisper, “what it is that you want.”

“The diamonds you stole in Ghent.”

Berlin forced out a careless laugh. Internally, he didn’t like where this conversation was going in the slightest. Little alarm bells were beginning to ring in his ears at the thought that Sofia might have tricked him into coming here tonight. “Well, lucky for you I always carry them around in my wallet, right next to my bars of gold, of course. Would you like me to give you one of those as well?”

“You’re giving them to me,” Sofia snarled through her thin, red lip. “One way or another.”

There was no way Berlin could have reacted fast enough. In one split second, Sofia had pulled out a knife and pressed it to Berlin’s neck.

 _So much for a social call_. What had initially drawn Berlin to Sofia was now almost literally stabbing him in the back. He loved her deterministic recklessness, the way she always seemed to get what she wanted, no matter the cost or sacrifices that came with it. Berlin knew Sofia was more than capable of leaving him with a few new scars tonight.

“I thought we were meeting to reminisce. Glorify the good times we had together.”

“Oh, we were. There was just a slight, last-minute change in that plan. However, once you give me the diamonds, we can go right back to that plan and _reminisce_.”

“I don’t have the diamonds.”

“Bullshit.”

“I sold them before we even got back to Spain!”

“Then give me the fucking money!”

Berlin laughed degradingly. He ought to have seen this coming, Sofia never did do anything without an ulterior motive. “So that’s what this is about.”

He felt the tip of the knife dig deeper into his skin. Berlin had seen her in a fight once; she was quicker and stronger than she looked. He’d have to distract her a lot more if he wanted to successfully disarm her with minimal cuts to his body.

“What do you need the money for?”

“None of your fucking business.”

Berlin smirked. “It is if I’m investing in it.”

The comment earned him a knee between the legs while the edge of the knife pressed deeper into his throat, making it difficult for him to breathe.

 _Mierda!_ Berlin was thrown from one fucked up situation to the next. First the heist with Palermo went askew, and now Sofia was kicking his balls instead of sucking on them. Berlin’s impeccable track record was being ruthlessly tarnished.

Before Berlin could even think of a good defensive strategy, the blade miraculously lost touch with his throat. Berlin watched in confusion as Sofia was pulled away by her hair and dragged toward the fence until her back was pressed against the metal bars.

Berlin didn’t waste any time and took the knife from her while she was still caught off by the surprise. He reversed their roles effortlessly, holding the blade against her throat, while Palermo let go of her hair and climbed back to their side of the fence.

“Señorita, if you’re into knife play, I suggest you find yourself a new partner.” Palermo grinned at her and gave Berlin a gentle slap on the shoulder. “Are we done here?”

*

* * *

**Present**

Berlin walked over to the couch, careful not to tread on the shards of broken jewellery littering the floor. He felt as if he was committing a sin; stepping on the pieces that once made up something he adored so much.

“Go get a shower and clean up. I’m not going outside with you looking like this.” Berlin’s voice was back under control. It was easier to speak when he wasn’t looking straight at Palermo.

The couch was littered with food wrappers and empty bottles. Berlin pushed the garbage to one side and put the empty whiskey bottles on the floor before he took a seat.

“You didn’t answer my question. Why’d you come?”

“You called me here, remember?” Berlin felt something poking at his butt cheek and pulled a crumbled piece of paper from underneath him. He unfolded it, careful not to rip it as he straightened the paper out.

It was one of Palermo’s drawings. Berlin recognized the straight lines and precision immediately, although he’d never seen this particular sketch before. He found himself marvelling at the vineyard it depicted. Rows of vines took up most of the sketch, with hills further in the distance and a clear skyline drawn at the top of the page.

Although they had known each other for years, it was rare for Palermo to show Berlin his drawings. Most often Berlin had only seen glimpses of unfinished pieces or sketches for a heist. Looking at the paper he was holding in his hand now, Berlin regretted not seeing more of Palermo’s artwork, and hated to see it crumbled and tossed so worthlessly away.

“Where did you sketch this?” Berlin held up the piece of paper over his shoulder for Palermo to see.

Berlin heard Palermo’s footsteps as he walked over to him, grabbing the drawing from his hands from behind the couch.

“Nantes.” Palermo tore the paper in two even halves and let them drop on the floor. Berlin tried to keep his face expressionless as he watched the ripped pieces flutter and plummet in the breeze of the open window.

“I didn’t know you’ve been to that region of France,” Berlin noted sourly, part of him still upset that Palermo had just destroyed the drawing. When the hell had Palermo been in Nantes anyway? Berlin tried to recall any story that Palermo might have shared with him taking place in the city, but drew a blank.

“I went after we took the Gérôme painting. You stayed in Paris that night, remember?”

Berlin remembered. Hazily. But he had enough details to form a good enough picture of the memory. It wasn’t one he wanted to dwell on too much, especially in Palermo’s current state. Drunk out of his mind, or not. Berlin had zero doubt that Palermo’s memory of the exhibit was much clearer than his own. After all, Berlin had stayed behind in Paris for a good reason.

Something churned. It took Berlin a second to realize it was Palermo’s stomach grumbling.

“You know it’s unhealthy to drink on an empty stomach.”

“Good thing there’s nothing left to drink then.”

“Is there any food?”

Palermo shrugged his shoulder and walked around the couch, slumping down on the other end of the couch. “What’s it matter? I’d rather you just burn this place down before you attempt to cook something.”

Berlin scoffed, offended. “Not knowing how to cook and simply not wanting to cook are two different things. I have better things to do than waste my time away in a kitchen.”

“But isn’t food a form of art? I thought you simply _adored_ all art,” Palermo said derisively, shooting Berlin a cold smirk.

Palermo was purposely referring back to their time in France again and Berlin hated him for it. He didn’t want to think about it, let alone have Palermo think about it. Berlin needed Palermo to have a certain mindset for his plan to work and the one Palermo was currently in was most definitely not it.

“What do you say we go out tonight, then? Grab a bite to eat, have a drink, talk.” Berlin gave him his uttermost charming smile.

Palermo bit his lip, then started chewing on his finger. “Talk, huh? I’m afraid I haven’t finished writing my speech yet.”

“You can borrow one of mine.”

Palermo looked at him in theatrical shock. Mockingly, he said: “But, Andrés, that’s… that’s impossible!”

As comically as Palermo tried to come across, Berlin could still see the hurt and betrayal in his eyes at those words. The lie that would forever haunt them both.

“Martín, about that I-”

Before Berlin could finish, Palermo cut him off. “Shh, shh, shh. I’ll tell you what. I’ll go out for dinner if you promise you won’t fucking talk about it. You made it perfectly clear how you feel, okay? I don’t need to be fucking told twice or be pitied for it, so you can save your fucking breath.”

Berlin nodded, slowly. Unsure. Something didn’t add up. “Then why did you get me to come see you?”

To that, the corner of Palermo’s lip shot up and he smiled at Berlin winningly. “Bueno, querido, why _did_ you come see me?”

*


	16. Chapter 16

**Past**

Berlin was quiet on the way back to Sergio’s house. The turn of events kept running through his head over and over again.

All this time, he’d been worried about Palermo getting himself in trouble; Palermo fucking things up and Berlin having to clean up after him. But now? It seemed as if Berlin had gotten their roles mixed up, with Berlin being the constant screw up in all of this and Palermo always there helping him out of them.

He felt like he’d been looking at a mirror this entire time and only now realized he was actually stuck in a funhouse. Everything seemed to be too distorted to be real. He didn’t recognize himself or Palermo; couldn’t see himself as the failure and Palermo the one being in control. And yet… Berlin shook his head. He needed to stop this. It would only drive him insane if he kept pondering this over.

Reluctantly, Berlin forced himself to tune back to his current surroundings. They were not far from Sergio’s house. The street they were currently walking on was a residential one. Parked cars were lined up on either side of the street and black cats were roaming around the area. The door to one of the houses opened and a man stepped out with a small puppy on the leash.

Palermo was chattering happily, not at all bothered by Berlin’s complete lack of participation in the conversation thus far.

“I really wish we could go back to the school, there were a bunch of kid’s paintings on the wall and I would have _loved_ to hear your artistic take on them. This one drawing was of a stick figure but the head was separate from the rest of its body, floating off to the side next to a bunch of birds. I kept asking myself what message the young artist was trying to convey and wishing you were there to explain it to me.” Palermo looked at him expectantly, but when Berlin gave him no reaction, he slung an arm around Berlin’s shoulder. “Awe, c’mon hermano, are you still upset about that girl? What was the meeting about anyway? Now that I saved your life, I believe I’ve earned the right to know.”

Berlin shrugged, playing it off as if him being held at knifepoint by a _woman_ wasn’t a big deal. “I ran into her a few days ago when we went shopping. She just told me to meet me here tonight.”

“And you didn’t ask any questions?” Palermo’s voice was doubting, but at least it didn’t sound chiding.

Berlin had zero intention of telling Palermo the full story, he’d embarrassed himself enough tonight as it was. He raised an eyebrow at Palermo. Looking back to what had happened, Berlin couldn’t help but shake his head and smile at the irony of it all. “My encounters with her have always contained a certain degree of passion. I suppose, some ended up being more violent than others.”

Palermo stopped his interrogative stare and broke out in carefree laughter. “Hurts getting rejected doesn’t it? What the fuck did you bring me along for, huh?”

Berlin shrugged his shoulders, unwilling to own up to the truth. “Sofia has a friend you would’ve liked.”

“No offence, but I’m not completely trusting your sense of judgement with that one.”

Berlin huffed, but stayed quiet.

“And just so you know,” Palermo grinned, filling the silence between them yet again. “I don’t plan on attacking you in your sleep tonight. So don’t worry about staying on your side of the couch, I won’t slit your throat for wanting to cuddle. It’s natural to crave physical comfort after something like this.”

Palermo winked at him, the smirk on his face stretching impossibly wider. Berlin didn’t know what to say.

The thought of having to share the couch with Palermo after his realization tonight almost made him blush. He expected himself to feel sick to his stomach, to despise Palermo for being exactly the type of person that Berlin had wanted himself to be around him. Yet somehow, the anticipated jealousy never came. Instead, he could feel Palermo’s hand resting reassuringly on his shoulder and Berlin almost caught himself leaning into it. He liked the warmth that radiated from Palermo’s palm, transferring over to Berlin’s body, making him feel the full weight of the touch. Maybe Palermo was right. Maybe Berlin was craving some physical comfort after tonight. _Goddammit._

“Hey, you’re still with me?” Palermo shook him gently, his voice soft. “You’re not in shock from the knife or something?”

Berlin forced himself to push Palermo’s hand away, finding it take an enormous strength of willpower. “Don’t be ridiculous. Not wanting to hold a conversation with you isn’t a sign of mental distress.”

Palermo shrugged. “I’m no psychologist. I can totally see you as a doctor, though.” He gave Berlin a lopsided smile that made his eyes twinkle in the flickering light of a humming lamppost.

Berlin ignored his comment. He wasn’t sure how well he’d do at playfully flirting with Palermo right now, nor how playful it would end up being. He tried to change the subject and pointed at Sergio’s house in the near distance. “We’re almost there.”

“Wow! I’m sure glad your memory is still intact,” Palermo said, the sarcasm layered thick on every word. “Are you sure you want to go back yet?”

 _No_. Berlin’s head was a mess and he wouldn’t be able to sleep unless he’d untangle and analyze it all. The idea of staying up all night, laying on the couch with Palermo sleeping soundly beside him only added to Berlin’s growing distress.

“What did you have in mind?”

He watched as Palermo scrunched his nose, thinking of some options. “Are you hungry?”

Berlin shook his head slightly. “No. Although, I certainly wouldn’t mind a drink after tonight.”

Palermo laughed at that, his cackle filling the quiet street. Something in Berlin’s stomach stirred at the sound.

 _He could definitely use a drink._ Belin hoped the alcohol would erase some of the thoughts he was starting to have. He’d rather not deal with them in this lifetime.

“Any good places nearby, Mr. Tourguide? What about the pub we passed by earlier?”

“If that’s where you want to go.” Berlin didn’t really care where they would go to. He couldn’t help but notice how Palermo was controlling the conversation, making all the decisions for them to which Berlin obediently agreed to. It bothered him, but Berlin couldn’t summon it in him to change any of it. If Palermo wanted to go to a pub, Berlin had nothing to object to it. He was _letting_ Palermo have control, wasn’t he? Berlin could just as easily take it back if he’d wanted to.

*

Being locked inside with no set routine made it difficult to keep up with the weekdays. Judging by the amount of people they found drinking and eating at the pub, however, Belin assumed it was either Friday or Saturday night. The chatter of different voices filled the room, the volume of it almost competing with the old rock music playing in the background.

As they squeezed through the mass of bodies, looking for a table to snatch, Berlin was overly aware of Palermo walking closely behind him, acute to the way their bodies would brush against each other every now and again. Palermo’s scent was in his nose and his heat seemed to transfer over to Berlin’s, making his face feel hot and his hands clammy.

Busying himself with scouring the room and _not_ looking at Palermo, Berlin felt someone tugging at his elbow. “What about right there?” Palermo yelled in his ear, his chin almost resting against the side of Berlin’s neck. The little hairs he had there stood up at the sudden breath of air.

Berlin looked over at the small, square table by the wall and nodded. It was right next to a loud party of people, but he doubted they would find anything better. More people were entering the pub than leaving.

Before anyone else could claim the table, Berlin squeezed by the group and slid into the bench. He leaned back against the wall, allowing his eyes to close for only a moment before an unfamiliar voice made them flutter open again.

“Good evening. What can I get you?”

The waiter stared at him with a stressful, but goodhearted smile on his face. He was an older man, probably in his late fifties, with a grey beard and stout frame.

The bar was right across from them and Berlin longingly looked at the various wine bottles stacked on the shelf behind the bartender. He might come back here when his nerves didn’t beckon something a little bit stronger. “I’ll take an Old Fashion.”

“Make that two.”

Berlin looked around the place as they waited for their drinks to arrive. He could feel Palermo’s eyes trained on him and reluctantly turned his attention back to him.

Palermo furrowed his eyebrows, his eyes running over Berlin’s features with a peculiar expression on his face. “Are you sure you’re okay?” He eventually asked. “You’ve been acting fucking weird all night.”

Berlin noticeably swallowed down some spit; his throat suddenly feeling itchy and dry. He wished the waiter would hurry up with their drinks. “You’re imaging things.”

“With you?” Palermo smirked and leaned closer over the table. “Always.”

Berlin’s eyes locked with his and it felt impossible to look away. He wanted to talk to Palermo, hold a conversation with him, but each sentence he composed in his mind sounded too forced to make audible. He couldn’t remember the last time this had ever happened to him, if ever. Berlin always had a way with words and people. If he wanted to impress someone, he effortless found the perfect words to say.

But Palermo felt different and maybe Berlin was just giving him too much credit at this point. Maybe he’d underestimated Palermo so vastly in the past that he was overestimating him now, but nothing Berlin wanted to say felt right on his lips. He wanted to earn his respect, prove to himself that he was _not_ beneath Palermo.

Their drinks arrived just then, saving Berlin from responding as Palermo was busy ordering some food for himself. Berlin took a big gulp of his cocktail and tried not to grimace at the bitter taste.

When the server turned their back to them to cater to the adjacent table, Palermo’s attention was fully dedicated to Berlin again. He pushed his drink over to Berlin’s side, the glass smoothly sliding across the wooden table. “Something tells me you’re going to need that one too.”

Berlin huffed out a laugh. “You’re getting to know me too well.”

Palermo licked his lips and casually leaned back in his chair, spreading his legs. “I take that as a compliment. I doubt a lot of people can say that about you.”

Berlin took another sip. “I wouldn’t let it get to your head.”

Palermo turned in his chair, looking at something that must have caught his attention. He nodded in the direction of the door. “What about this one? Short, shaven, well-dressed.”

Berlin rolled his eyes, not even bothering to look at the man Palermo was trying to set him up with. “Didn’t I tell you I was done playing this game?”

Palermo gave a disapproving humph but let the subject slide. “He kind of reminds me of a guy I used to hang out with anyways.”

Berlin smirked darkly, raising one eyebrow at Palermo. “I suppose that makes him your type then, not mine.”

Palermo shook his head, looking slightly disgusted at the idea. “No, fuck, no it wasn’t like that. I met him when I first got to Spain actually.”

He began to dive into a story and even though it was told avidly, Berlin found it difficult to concentrate on the words. He kept finding himself zoning in and out, kept catching his eyes darting to Palermo’s mouth, watching the way his lips moved as he spoke.

_Berlin felt as if he were trapped between two alternative realities. One where Palermo was sitting across from him at a bar, telling him stories about his past and the people that had been part of it, and in the other universe, he was pushing himself off the bench and pulling Palermo up to his feet, crushing their lips together, grinding against him, ripping their clothes off and fucking him on the table._

The image came out of nowhere. Berlin wished he could burn whatever brain cell had summoned it. He physically shook his head and tried to pay attention to what Palermo was saying.

Palermo was laughing at something and Berlin joined in automatically. It wasn’t out of politeness, frankly, Berlin just couldn’t help himself. Palermo’s eyes were shining brightly in the dim light, his lips stretched thin to show rows of small teeth and the little gap to the side, the corners of his mouth pushed his cheeks up, given him the boyish look Berlin had gotten so used to over these past few days.

The thought Berlin had tried so hard to get rid of came back like a strike of lightning. _Palermo naked underneath him, legs wrapped around Berlin’s torso, hips buckling up to meet his._ Berlin gulped down his drink, hoping the alcohol would purify his thoughts. Since when had he started fantasizing about Palermo? _For fuck’s sake_ , they’d been sharing a bed together for multiple nights now.

Granted, Berlin enjoyed the flirtations exchanged between them and the way Palermo’s body would press into his at night, but Berlin didn’t _actually_ want Palermo. It was like the sudden urge to jump off high altitude, the thought was there, but Berlin never heeded it any concern. He never believed his thoughts serious enough to full-on consider fucking Palermo.

“And that’s how he died.” Palermo finished his story grinning. He craned his neck to check the kitchen door and started impatiently drumming his fingertips against the table. “What the fuck is taking them so long? I’m starving.”

*

“So tell me about you and Sofia,” Palermo said around a mouthful of a croqueta.

Berlin emptied his third glass and smiled coyly, pulling one of the napkins that had come with Palermo’s food over to his side of the table. He started folding it, wishing he could find the mindfulness in the action that his brother always got from it.

“There isn’t much to say that you don’t already know.”

“C’mon Andrés, entertain me. I promise I won’t get too jealous.” He winked playfully, making Berlin’s heart beat faster in his chest.

“We pulled a few heists together. Things didn’t exactly turn out the way I planned them to.”

“Can’t imagine how,” Palermo said sarcastically with a chuckle.

 _Because relationships and robberies don’t mix._ Berlin bit his tongue. This was exactly why he shouldn’t be imagining Palermo’s naked ass when they were planning a heist together. Not just any heist, but the biggest heist in history.

And yet. Palermo’s tongue ran over his lips and Berlin couldn’t help but stare at the movement.

Adrenalin rushed through his body at the idea of giving this a proper try. It’d be different than the blowjob he’d received in his youth. Different in the sense that Berlin _wanted_ this. He wanted to feel Palermo’s hard body pressed against his, wanted to know what it’d be like to have Palermo’s flush dick in his hand. Berlin was curious to explore his new desire and where it might take him.

*

* * *

**Present**

Now that they were back in each other’s presence again, the time he’d spent away from Palermo felt like a dream. Although Berlin would have an easier time pretending everything was okay if the atmosphere surrounding them didn’t feel so heavy and oppressing.

It had been impossible to read Palermo over supper. At least Berlin had managed to get him cleaned up, fed, and slightly more sober. He counted it as a win. A good win at that. Berlin felt much lighter and less worried than he had been in the past couple of weeks.

“Which hotel are you staying at?” Palermo asked as they walked together side-by-side out of the restaurant. Berlin’s fingertips tingled with the urge to sway his arm just _so_ until he’d make contact with Palermo. The kiss might have happened weeks ago, but Berlin could still taste Palermo on his lips. He’d never craved anything as much as he did Palermo at this moment.

Berlin curled his hands into a fist and buried them in his coat pockets.

“Wagner.”

“That’s close by, isn’t it?”

Berlin nodded. He wasn’t sure if Palermo was trying to get rid of him or hinting at the opposite.

“I’ll walk you back.”

“Are you saying goodbye to me already? I have to say, Martín, I’m a bit disappointed. I flew all the way here just to see you.”

Palermo chose not to respond. Quietly they continued their walk to the hotel.

It had been an awkward dinner. There were simply too many topics they had to steer clear of. They had talked about Shakespeare for the most part; Palermo having read far more than he’d initially said, which hadn’t surprised Berlin in the slightest.

Palermo wasn’t stupid. He certainly wasn’t modest either. But he was a perfectionist at heart and he would downplay what he knew, or what he could do, until he had eventually learned enough to outsmart Berlin at it. This got especially frustrating when it came to things Berlin valued most.

“How’s, uh, how’s Tatiana?” Palermo asked, finally breaking the silence between them.

Berlin had to chuckle, remembering the scene at the airport. “In France currently, or so I was told.”

“She left, huh? What’d you this time?”

Seemingly careless, Berlin shrugged his shoulders. “If I could read a woman’s mind, I wouldn’t be signing my fifth divorce.”

They reached the neo-classical building of the hotel and, once inside, walked up the set of the marble stairs that led to Berlin’s suite. The room was decently sized and offered enough free space between the bed, dresser, desk, and couch. It had a tall ceiling and Victorian wallpaper, the floor was made of red Bokhara carpet and the furniture mahogany. Old paintings wrapped in gold gilded frames decorated the pastel-coloured walls. The entire room gave off a nineteenth-century vibe and Berlin absolutely loved it.

“So what’s your plan?” Palermo asked, heading straight to the mini-bar and drowning the first little bottle of vodka in one go. “You’re not still staying at the monastery, are you?”

“No, I think I need a change of scenery for a little while.”

Palermo grinned, taking the room in its entirety. “This place definitely screams you. Just put a few self-portraits up and you’ll feel right at home.”

His words brought Berlin back to Palermo’s apartment and the sketch he’d so heartlessly destroyed. The necklace broken to pieces on the floor.

“Martín,” Berlin began, but before he continued, his throat suddenly felt tight and itchy.

Berlin smiled, trying to ease his own tension. He took a deep breath through his nose, calming down his nerves. He could do this. Hell, he’d already gotten past the hardest part. This conversation should be a breeze compared to their last one.

“I think I’m going to stay in Sicily for a while.”

*


	17. Chapter 17

**Past**

And there it was again. The image in his mind of Palermo on his knees in front of him. Palermo spread out with his hands against the door and Berlin fucking into him. Palermo bent over in the shower moaning for him to go faster.

Berlin could feel the heat rising in the pit of his stomach and he tried to shake off every thought he had of Palermo naked. There were about a million reasons why he shouldn’t be thinking like this. They were colleagues. They were-

“Are you going to the bathroom or not? Because I still need to brush my teeth too.” Palermo said. Berlin considered it a blessing that mind readers didn’t actually exist, otherwise Palermo would definitely be asking him a vastly different question right now.

They were back at Sergio’s house. Standing in the narrow foyer, the lamp in the living room their closest light source. Palermo looked at him expectantly in the half-lit corridor, waiting for an answer.

Berlin stopped moving toward the bathroom, feeling his head spin. The walk home hadn’t sobered him up as much as he’d hoped it would. He leaned against the wall and rested his head. This was nice. He didn’t really need to go to the bathroom anyway. He could stay in the foyer with Palermo all night.

Berlin didn’t bother to hide the way his eyes roamed curiously over Palermo’s body. Instead of drowning Berlin’s desire, the alcohol seemed to have done the opposite. _It couldn’t hurt to try it_ , Berlin reasoned with himself. It was just sex. It wouldn’t mean anything.

“You can go. I need to get a glass of water,” Berlin finally replied but made no attempt to move to the kitchen. His eyes met with Palermo’s, then moved down to his nose, his mouth, the stubbles on his chin. A little part in Berlin tried to remind him that his heart didn’t normally pound this fast or that the feeling in his stomach wasn’t the fault of too much alcohol. Berlin pushed the thought away and continued studying Palermo shamelessly.

“A cold shower works just as well, you know.”

Berlin’s grinned, his mind going down the wrong alleyway. “Oh does it? I normally have someone else take care of that problem for me.”

As Berlin spoke the words, he caught a change in Palermo’s expression. His eyes narrowed, then became wider, his pupils impossible dark. Palermo’s lips slightly parted, a thin line of spit making them shine in the dim light.

Maybe Palermo was a mind reader after all.

Before Berlin could fully process what was happening, Palermo took a step toward him and his hand wrapped around the nape of Berlin’s neck. Their noses pressed against each other and Palermo’s mouth hovered slightly over his. Berlin could feel Palermo’s hot breath against his face, erasing any rational thought left in him.

“I have to say, this is the worst idea you’ve had so far,” Berlin managed to utter with indifference, the words coming out stronger and much more confident than he actually felt.

“Is that so?” Palermo’s green eyes never left Berlin’s except for the few instances where they hungrily flickered down to his lips. “I actually think it’s my best one yet.”

This wasn’t a game anymore. He could feel Palermo’s dick pressing against his own and the realness of the situation came rushing into Berlin’s consciousness with every possible set of consequences and doubts.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” Berlin stammered, sobering up almost instantly. Every part in him was screaming at him to put a stop to this _now_ and yet Berlin felt hypnotized, unable to take his eyes off Palermo’s. The room felt too hot, Berlin couldn’t think straight anymore. He could hear his own heart beating loudly against his chest, trying to break out of his body and surrender.

“I like it so far,” Palermo purred, his breath a warm breeze on Berlin’s lips as he spoke.

Berlin didn’t know what to reply to that. _Me too_ didn’t seem like the most appropriate response to what he was trying to accomplish. What was he trying to accomplish? Berlin didn’t think he’d ever felt this conflicted. He wanted to stop this, but his body kept leaning in closer to Palermo, who interpreted his silence as an okay to keep going.

_It wouldn’t mean anything_ , Berlin tried to reassure himself, but the small voice in his head started tucking at his heart more fiercely now, exposing this thought as a lie. He _liked_ Palermo, as infatuating as the man was, Berlin couldn’t help but be fascinated by him.

Palermo didn’t seem to be as conflicted as Berlin and wasted no time. He placed both his palms on either side of Berlin’s cheeks and pulled the two together until their lips softly pressed into another. Palermo’s lips were warm and wet against his and Berlin opened up eagerly, inviting Palermo’s tongue in. Berlin’s eyes fluttered shut automatically, his mind focused solely on the sense of touch and sound.

He could feel Palermo’s stubble roughly brushing against his cheek. His own hand grabbed for strands of hair that felt much too short, yet inexplicably right. Palermo’s aftershave was invading his nose, his hands were travelling all over Berlin’s body, and his chest was pulled so tightly against Berlin’s, there was nothing left between them but their clothes.

It was easy to ignore any thought of reasoning his mind was still desperately trying to provide him with. Eagerly, Berlin started sucking on Palermo’s tongue, hoping it would silence his brain and make him listen to his body instead. Berlin _liked_ this. And he wanted more.

He felt Palermo’s hand on his neck, pulling him even closer to the point where Berlin could barely breathe. His lips glued to Palermo’s with no intention to be separated.

Palermo’s hand continued gliding further down to Berlin’s lower back, slightly pushing against it until their hips left no room to get any closer. He could feel each roll of Palermo’s hips pressing against his, and the bulk in his pants grew painfully harder at the action.

Berlin grabbed Palermo’s shirt, tugging and pulling at it until, finally, it became untucked and he was free to roam his palms all over Palermo’s warm, naked skin. Berlin’s nails dug into Palermo’s back, demanding the roughness that his body offered him.

Berlin’s nose was pressed against Palermo’s cheek, unable to offer him any air. Reluctantly, he pulled his head away, catching his breath for only a second before Palermo began kissing his neck instead, his teeth grazing the soft skin tauntingly until a soft moan escaped Berlin.

He’d never felt so turned on and desperate in his entire life. And that… scared Berlin and it made his brain supply him with all possible things that could go wrong. He wanted Palermo’s body on his, wanted his short hair and stubbles, broad chest and pecks, his hard dick pressed against Berlin’s. But Berlin had no idea what he would do with it. He had never felt this much desire for anyone before and it was making him careless.

He needed to get himself under control. All the blood that should be pumped into his brain, was instead going straight to his dick. It didn’t help that Palermo never stopped grinding against him. Berlin wanted to rip both their pants off, wanted to know what it’d be like to feel Palermo’s cock rubbing against his, skin to skin.

And he _shouldn’t_. There were about a million reasons not to do this, number one being that they were colleagues. Sergio would kill him if he found out about this. Sergio could walk out of his bedroom right now and find his brother desperately grinding against their new recruitment.

This wasn’t the right place to do this, nor the right time.

Berlin could feel Palermo’s hands fiddling with the button of Berlin’s dress pants and another low moan escaped his lips. He wanted this so badly. Wanted to give himself to Palermo, surrender completely. He’d never had someone make him feel this fucking good before in his life.

Fuck, Berlin was losing control over himself. He needed to think. He couldn’t allow this to happen again. He’d just gotten screwed over by Sofia and now Berlin was rushing to let his guard down again. Palermo had been there, _rescuing_ him from her. How much more exposed and vulnerable could Berlin possibly be around him?

“Martín, Martín,” he muttered. It took all of his mental strength to take his hands off Palermo’s back and place them on his chest, over his shirt, pushing Palermo gently away and missing the feeling of his skin immediately. “Don’t you know the first rule of any heist?”

“Don’t get caught?” Palermo’s eyes shone lively, not at all taken aback by Berlin’s rejection. His pupils were blown, black with desire. Berlin wanted to be on top of him, see Palermo look up at him with those eyes while he fucked into him.

Berlin hung his head, biting his lower lip. He could still taste Palermo on them. “Don’t get involved.”

“But the heist isn’t for a while,” Palermo murmured, his thumb trailing lazily over Berlin’s lip. “We’ll probably forget this all happened by then.” His voice was a low whisper, tempting Berlin to take a step forward again, grab him by the neck and pull him back into another kiss.

“You don’t think this was memorable?” Berlin raised a teasing eyebrow at him. He certainly would never forget this. Even now, he couldn’t get enough of Palermo. Berlin just needed some time to straighten out his thoughts, gain back control over himself, and then they could try this again. Berlin was looking forward to it.

Palermo tilted his head, giving him a calculating, cold look. “No.” Suddenly his voice was no longer a seductive murmur, but a vengeful hiss. His dark eyes sparkled not with desire, but victory. The smirk Palermo gave him was that of revenge. “I’m surprised you have to ask, cariño.”

Berlin felt a pang in his chest as if Palermo had just pulled the trigger on him. All the colour in his face drained at the realization of the words. They were _his._

“Don’t tell me you planned all of this just to get some petty revenge on me.” Berlin managed to make his voice sound chiding, but couldn’t help but to say what was on his mind.

“You still don’t think I can control the fucking hostages, gain their trust, make them do whatever the fuck I want?” Palermo hissed.

Berlin’s eyes perfectly reflected the ice-cold stare Palermo was given him. Berlin felt absolutely humiliated. Played. He’d been careless around Palermo yet again and Palermo had taken full advantage of it. Berlin couldn’t believe this had all just been a fucking set-up for Palermo to win their earlier argument. Even worse, he couldn’t believe he’d actually fallen for it.

Whatever Berlin had thought he’d felt for Palermo tonight crumbled like a withered rose into a million tiny pieces and left him only with the thorns that pierced and poked into his heart.

“I’m sorry I underestimated you,” Berlin held up his hand in a mocking manner and took another, careful, step back. As impossible as it felt, Berlin managed to plaster a big smile on his face. “Winner gets the couch?”

With a cocky wink, he walked past Palermo and out the door. There was no way in hell he’d share the couch with Palermo tonight.

*

* * *

**Present**

Berlin felt the air ripped out of him and his face whipped to the side before he began stumbling to the floor. He didn’t stay on the ground for long. Palermo grabbed him by the collar, pulling on him until Berlin was sitting slightly upwards. Another quick punch landed on his jaw. And then another one. And then another.

It was almost a blessing that Palermo was still too drunk to properly fight. His punches were uncoordinated, half of them barely hitting Berlin, some ended up on his ear, a few more landed closer to his mouth. He could feel the blood running out of his nose and the metallic taste on his tongue.

When he finally managed to throw Palermo off him, Berlin’s face and shirt were covered in shiny red.

Palermo stayed laying down as he was. His back on the ground, his knuckles split open and smeared with blood. His heavy breathing the only sound filling the room.

“You son of a bitch!” Palermo muttered, finally breaking the silence between them by the time Berlin had pulled himself up to his feet and moved to sit on the couch. He could feel the vein on his temple pulsating rapidly and his face beginning to swell up and bruising.

“You goddamn fucking cocksucking son a fucking bitch!” Palermo yelled, slamming both hands against the floor.

Berlin let him scream. Partly because he didn’t want to move his jaw too much and say anything, but mostly because he knew Palermo well enough to know it would be completely futile to try to calm him down right now. He needed to get his anger out before Berlin could properly explain himself to him. Not that Berlin was exactly pleased with Palermo either right now. His face fucking hurt.

“You motherfucking piece of shit!”

Berlin got off the couch and walked over to the mini-fridge, hoping to find some ice cubes in there. Pleased, he pulled out the tray and walked over to the bathroom sink, where he slammed his flat palm against the back of the tray until a few ice cubes fell out. He emptied the soap bowl, filled it with the ice instead, and silently made his way back to the living area of the suite, where he knelt down beside Palermo.

Berlin grabbed one of Palermo’s hands and held one ice cube against it.

Palermo watched him closely with a confused look on his face. “Shouldn’t you put that on your face?” He asked, his voice quieting down, although his breathing was loud and erratic, his chest still rising and falling rapidly. He didn’t push Berlin’s hand away, which was enough encouragement for Berlin to stay with him on the ground.

“You cracked your knuckles open,” he said softly, tending to the cuts, watching the cube leave a thin layer of water on his skin as Berlin circled it over the back of Palermo’s hand.

“T’was worth it,” Palermo gave him a toothy grin and got up into a sitting position next to him. He grabbed an ice cube out of the bowl and gently pressed it against the side of Berlin’s face. “You’re a fucking son of a bitch, you know.”

Berlin bit back a smile on his own knowing the action would just make his jaw ache even more. “I thought you’d be happy to hear that I’m sticking around for a little while.”

Palermo shook his head slightly. “All these years I’ve hated myself for not being able to figure you out, but now,” he trailed off, his eyes fixed on Berlin’s cheek. “I don’t think even you know what the fuck it is that you want.”

The words stung and Berlin tried not to flinch as the ice cube was pressed a little harder into his skin.

“I’m just here to make sure you’re okay. I’ve always known what I want.” The words came out raspy. Berlin wished he’d gotten something to drink, his throat felt dry like sandpaper.

“And what about all this parting our ways and licking my wounds bullshit, huh? Doesn’t you showing up here contradict all of that?”

“I didn’t realize you’d take it so personally.”

This time Berlin did wince and a short groan escaped his lips. The entire ice cube was pushed forcefully against the outside of his cheek, making his skin go from fiery and painful to numb and tingly in a matter of a few seconds.

“What are you doing here, Andrés, huh? And cut the bullshit this time.”

“I just told you,” Berlin sighed exaggeratingly loud. “You obviously need to have someone looking over your shoulder. I’ve left you for a few weeks and already you’re a drunken mess.”

Clearly frustrated with the conversation, Palermo threw the half-melted ice cube back into the bowl. “And why do you care so much what _I_ choose to do with _my_ life, huh?”

“I am a man of honor and ethics, Martín. You might not enter the mint with us, but as far as I’m concerned, you’re still as much part of this heist as I am. I’m still responsible to have your back and keep you alive. If I left you choking on your own vomit, what kind of man would that make me? I’m not here for myself, I’m doing this for you.”

“Is that what you tell yourself?” Palermo gave out a short, choked out laugh. “Well, in that case, Frollo, I don’t fucking need you. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

“Oh is that right?” Berlin countered tauntingly. “Then why did you steal the earrings? Were you getting bored being all by yourself down here already?”

“I-“ The heat in Palermo’s voice eradicated. He quickly looked away, grabbing a new ice cube out of the bowl and playing with it absentmindedly. The water ran steadily down between the cracks of his fingers and continued to drip onto the floor. “It was a mistake,” he began again quietly. “If I’d known you’d find out about it, I’d never would’ve taken them. I’m sorry, Andrés, it wasn’t a ploy to get you to come.”

“You’re just saying that now because I called you out on it.”

“No,” Palermo slowly shook his head, the ice cube still rotating between his hands, getting smaller and smaller as it melted. “You were right about everything else though. I am a fucking mess. I do think about you way too fucking much. Since the moment we first met, not a single day has gone by where I don’t think of you. And there’s fuckall that I can do about it, no? You said it yourself, it’s impossible. There’s nothing left - _no fucking hope left_ \- to let myself think otherwise. You being here just makes everything worse. Please, Andrés, I’m asking you as your friend, don’t fucking stay here. The world’s big enough for us to never see each other again.”

*


	18. Chapter 18

**Past**

“Couldn’t sleep much?”

Berlin didn’t bother turning around, knowing full well who it was. He was curious as to how Palermo had found him, but Berlin certainly didn’t care enough about the answer to actually start a conversation with him.

He had walked around Sergio’s block aimlessly until he’d somehow ended up on top of a hill, looking down at the neighbourhood and the early morning scene presented below him. The newspaper boy dragging himself from house to house, the group of athletes running with long strides past him, the woman walking her Golden Retriever, and the man trying to control his German Sheppard who was eagerly pulling them toward her. In the distance, Berlin could hear the beeping of a garbage truck.

“You like watching the sunrise, huh?” He could hear the smirk in Palermo’s voice. Berlin didn’t have to check to know the exact glance Palermo was giving him, his eyes probably shone beautifully against the first rays of sunlight. Stubbornly, Berlin kept his stare on the two dogs who were now happily sniffing each other’s butts.

“I’m,” Palermo exhaled, looking for the right words to say. “I’m sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean to take the joke this far.”

_Joke._ Berlin couldn’t help but choke out a laugh. “You don’t need to apologize. Please don’t think I actually took any of it personal.” He was caricaturing the idea but could feel the blood rushing through him in a mix of anger and embarrassment. His face felt hot and he tried to hide it away from Palermo.

He hadn’t walked out of the fucking house for Palermo to find him. Berlin just wanted to be alone for a little while. He needed some time by himself to straighten out his thoughts and approach this conversation rationally.

Palermo, of course, wouldn’t give him any of that. “Andrés,” he grabbed him by the arm, forcing Berlin to turn around and face him.

Irritated by the touch, Berlin shook him off but inevitably made eye contact with him at last. The scornful look Berlin gave him was almost lost in the greens of Palermo’s eyes. He’d been right, they did look beautiful in the morning sun.

“I, uhm,” Palermo sucked his pinky finger, a nervous habit Berlin had come to notice him doing whenever he was about to lose confidence in himself. “We’re good though, right? No hard feelings.”

_No feelings at all._ Berlin wanted to retort childishly.

“Martín,” he said instead. He reassuringly placed his hand on Palermo’s shoulder and started leading them down the hill again. “We’re colleagues, no? It’s perfectly normal to test each other’s limits. In fact, I think it’s essential for us to know these things about each other. Being able to predict each other’s reaction will most certainly help us in the long run. But,” Berlin took a deep breath, letting the silence settle between them. “Now that you know which lines to tread and which ones to leave untouched, I would hope you know that if you ever try to do anything like this again, I will not just walk away from the scene.”

Palermo opened his mouth, about to make a suggestive comment, but then thought better of it and kept quiet.

“It wasn’t all-” Palermo finally began to speak but stopped himself yet again. “I promise I won’t, as long as you promise to do the same.”

Berlin tilted his head in confusion, unsure what exactly Palermo was asking of him.

“If we’re going to work together, I want to be taken seriously. I want your respect and trust.”

“You’ve always had my trust,” Berlin admitted quietly, regretting his words as soon as he said them.

“Had or still do?”

Berlin looked at him, taking in his pointy chin and thin lips, his straight wide nose, and big, round eyes, the few freckles that decorated Palermo’s cheeks, and the short stubbles that framed the rest of his face. Berlin took it all in and tried to recall the feeling he’d felt just hours ago at the sight, but the warmth in his stomach was completely gone.

“You tell me.”

“You can always trust me, Andrés, regardless of what may come, I won’t fuck you over when it comes to the heist. So what do you say, huh? Do you promise?”

Seeing Palermo now, it was hard to believe they’d ever bridged the space between them. Standing only a few feet apart, the distance between them seemed immeasurable. There was no longing in Berlin to change that anymore. Whatever he thought he’d felt for Palermo before was gone and replaced with indifference. The smile that used to effortlessly spread Berlin’s lips at the sight of Palermo now needed to be forced. The ease and belonging Berlin had felt around him had vanished. Berlin finally saw Palermo for what he really was.

A colleague. They could work together well enough to succeed in the heist, but Berlin would have no trouble following the rules anymore. He’d made a fool of himself around Palermo often enough. It was time to take back control.

“I never once doubted your abilities, Martín,” Berlin smirked. “Of course, I promise.”

*

* * *

**Present**

Berlin watched in trance as Palermo got up off the floor. Even if he’d wanted to, Berlin couldn’t have stopped him. His mind was drawing a complete blank. He couldn’t remember how to move his own body or how to form words on his tongue and make a sound. He tried to take control of himself but didn’t know where to start. Too many thoughts were meddling in his head and all of them collided and bumped into one another until they all exploded at once as the door behind Palermo shut with a piercing bang that made Berlin’s ears ring.

After that, everything felt too silent. Even Berlin’s head was quiet. The debris of his thoughts, all the _stop_ ’s and _don’t go_ ’s and _I feel everything for you and more_ , were useless now and kicked into the furthest corner of Berlin’s mind. It gave him a headache.

He needed to get himself off the floor and get a drink. Figure out what to do next now that- _Now that what?_ What exactly had just happened? Berlin wasn’t sure if this was it. The end.

Although, this _was_ what Berlin had wanted to happen from the start. For Palermo to move on and for them to never see each other again. Berlin had successfully executed his plan and yet… he had never felt so wrong before in his life.

All the pain and sorrow he’d felt when Palermo had left the monastery now came rushing back to him. Except this time the feelings were amplified, the pain multiplied by a hundred and the hope left in him divided by a billion. This couldn’t be the end. Palermo leaving him alone in this hotel room after Berlin had run after him like a lost child. Palermo telling him he didn’t want him anymore, thinking Berlin could never fully love him back, believing the lie he had told him.

It wasn’t what Berlin had wanted. Looking back at his conversation with Sergio, Berlin had never even taken into consideration what it would leave him feeling like. Even if he had, he doubted it would have come close to what he felt at this moment. Remorse. Regret. This hollowness inside his chest that seemed to grow bigger with the start of every new day.

He trusted his brother to know what was best for the heist, but this didn’t feel connected to the plan anymore. From the way things were going, they weren’t planning on entering the mint anytime soon. Who knew what would happen between him and Palermo in the years to come until then? Maybe Sergio could be wrong. Maybe Berlin had been lying to himself all these years that his brother couldn’t be doubted. Maybe all this time Berlin had been a coward; too scared to think about how he felt or what it meant when his heart picked up pace whenever Palermo smiled at him.

He was finally forced to look the truth in the eyes. He wanted Palermo back in his life. He needed to fix this.

“It’s not impossible.” The words Berlin should’ve said a long time ago were finally tumbling out of his mouth and echoed back to him in the empty room. “I made a mistake. I love all of you. All of it, Martín.”

Berlin got off the floor and threw the ice cubes in the sink to melt. He turned the tap for the hot water on and watched as the ice became smaller and the melted water was flushed down the drain.

“It’s not impossible.”

*

End of Part 2


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final part of this story!! :) There's a lot of substance abuse for the present portion that's going to continue over the next few chapters

# Part 3

**Past**

Berlin barged into his brother’s room and slammed the paper on the small office desk. A big, toothy grin took over his face as he looked down at Sergio, who looked at the flyer with interest.

“I found the first painting to hang up on your wall, Sergio.”

“The Spectacular Art of Jean-Léon Gérôme Exhibit,” Sergio read, crunching up his nose. He picked up the printout, holding it up to the light of the desk lamp, and studied it with a thoughtful expression on his face. “Are you going back to Madrid already?”

“Paris,” the smile on Berlin’s lips stretched impossibly wider. “What better place to steal something so dear to my heart than in the city of love, am I right, hermanito?”

“If my memory serves me correctly, which I’m fairly certain it does, you swore to never go back there,” Sergio said in his typical smartass type of tone, pushing on the brim of his glasses with his index finger for extra effects.

“Ah, that was a long time ago. Look at me, I’m a completely different man now. Besides, the exhibition doesn’t start for another few weeks, that’s plenty of time to design the perfect plan.”

“Andrés, I have my hands full with figuring out the heist on the mint. Can’t Martín help you with this one?”

Berlin swallowed almost nervously. The tension between him and Martín had been palpable, the change in their demeanour obvious. And yet, Sergio didn’t seem to have noticed a thing.

He had never known his own biological father but Berlin swore it was his genes that Berlin had gotten his social skills from. The fact that he and Sergio were related seemed impossible to believe sometimes. Then again, Berlin considered it a blessing that Sergio wasn’t suspicious and asking questions. Getting rejected by Palermo was bad enough; Berlin felt downright nauseous at the thought of anyone finding out about what had happened that night.

The last thing Berlin wanted was to travel to Paris alone with Palermo. Even though Palermo had proven himself worthy of a heist more than once and the two of them worked well together, their few, recent interactions had been so uncomfortable, just thinking about it made Berlin’s skin crawl from embarrassment. If only there was a way for him to pay Palermo back….

An idea crossed Berlin’s mind that summoned a devious smile on his face. “I don’t see why he wouldn’t help me. He practically jumps at every chance to get out of this house.”

*

“Gérôme?” Palermo looked up from his sketchbook and gave Berlin a questioning look.

He was sitting on the carpet, his legs sprawled out underneath the coffee table, his black pen still in his right hand, while the other was holding the stack of papers that Berlin had thrown at him.

Last week, Palermo had gone out for a few hours and come back with a small radio that was now standing on the low table, playing _Karma Chameleon_ quietly in the background.

“He was an eminent French academic artist of the nineteenth century. One of the best to have studied at the École des Beaux-Arts,” Berlin explained with grandeur, although Palermo remained unimpressed.

“And this painting,” he began, shuffling the pages by putting the printout of the artwork Berlin wanted to steal in the front. “Anything special about the dogs or the guy sitting in that giant bowl?”

“Diogenes, the man sitting in the _clay tub_ , was a Greek philosopher. His father minted coins for a living. The story goes that Diogenes went to see Oracle, who advised him to deface the currency and so Diogenes left his home and rejected all manly possessions,” Berlin realized he was adapting the lecturing tone of his brother, but Palermo did look genuinely interested and attentive.

“It’s a gift for Sergio,” Berlin explained hastily. “The original painting has been on display in North America for the past century. This exhibition is an excellent opportunity to bring it back to its European roots.”

“Okay, I’m in. Although,” Palermo furrowed his eyebrows in thought, switching the pages back to the original order until the flyer containing all the exhibition information was back at the front. “How famous is that painting exactly? Is says here the Madrid exhibit will only be a reduced version of the ones in Los Angeles and Paris.”

“Which is exactly why we’re headed for Paris,” Berlin smirked, pleased Palermo had picked up on that little detail. “I assume you won’t mind leaving Salamanca for a little while?”

Palermo face lit up with excitement and he quickly got up on his feet. “Are you fucking with me? I’d kill to get out of here. Anyplace that’s not Salamanca is as good to me. I’ve never even been to Paris!”

Palermo’s laughter was carefree and he turned the radio up, swaying his body to the upbeat music as he packed up his stuff on the table.

Berlin ignored the way his heart began to beat faster at the sight of Palermo’s happy demeanour. He needed to keep his emotions under control and keep a cool head during this heist. It would be useful to have Palermo help him with the plan and the robbery itself, but it wasn’t the deciding factor in why Berlin had chosen to bring him along.

Paris, the city of love. It was the perfect place for Berlin to take back the upper hand and even out the playing field.

*

* * *

**Present**

Had Berlin been a normal, nine-to-five, white-picket-fence person, he would have spent the next few days locked in his hotel room with the blinds drawn, and piles of take-out boxes and empty beer cans littering the floor. Certainly, Berlin felt the temptation to do just that. However, as Berlin kept reminding himself, his name wouldn’t be Andrés de Fonollosa if he was just any ordinary person.

As such, Berlin woke up early the next day and started his morning with an ice-cold shower and two shots of espresso. At 9:10, he was dressed in his finest suit and a plan itching to be executed.

At 9:30, Berlin hammered for exactly two minutes against the wooden door until a hungover, still half-drunk Palermo opened it with a groan.

“G‘way.”

Before Palermo could shut the door in his face, Berlin snuck his foot in-between and effortlessly slipped inside the apartment.

Once inside, Berlin resisted the urge to pluck his nose and focused on solely breathing through his mouth. The apartment reeked of alcohol, puke, and greasy takeout food. Berlin fought his way to the window, careful not to step on any shards of glass or the pile of vomit covering the floor by the couch.

The blinds were drawn and as Berlin pulled the string to lift them, he had to squint his eyes to get used to the sudden burst of light penetrating the room.

His eyes fell on a small plastic bag by his feet containing a handful of tiny, blue pills. “What the hell are these?” Berlin asked angrily.

He felt a lump in his throat at the sight. Maybe Palermo was right. If this was Berlin’s doing to him, Palermo might be better off without Berlin in his life.

Berlin furiously shook the thought away and turned around to find the room empty.

Outside, the birds were chirping a sweet melody. Inside, Berlin could hear Palermo retching in the bathroom.

Berlin sighed loudly, his heart beating about a million times faster than normal. He’d seen Palermo intoxicated often enough in his life to say with certainty that this behavior wasn’t normal for him. Palermo was one of those lucky bastards who could get completely plastered the night before and then pull a perfect heist the next morning with no headache or remorse. This was a new extreme, even for Palermo.

Berlin’s eyes wandered across the room, taking in the new piles of empty bottles strewn carelessly around the apartment and landing on the fine, white powder covering the coffee table by the couch.

“What the fuck, Martín? Are you trying to kill yourself? I know me being back in your life isn’t what you wanted, but this is a little bit dramatic, don’t you think?” By the time Berlin had finished yelling, he was standing behind Palermo in the bathroom.

Palermo used the toilet to steady himself as he got up. His hair was greasy, his skin pale, and his usually clear-cut green eyes were bloodshot red. Berlin had come across his fair share of corpses in life, Palermo standing there zombielike almost made Berlin want to add the image to his count.

He wanted to help him, he just didn’t know how. This was all new to Berlin. The moral obligation and guilt of being the cause of seeing someone he loved be so broken. He wanted to take it all and crumble it into a ball, throw his feelings out of the window and leave.

“Wha’ d’you care?” Palermo’s voice was raspy, his tone flat. Defeated.

“How many times do you need me to say it before you start believing me? I care about you.”

Palermo laughed bitterly. “Tha’ makes one o’ us.”

He was still dressed in yesterday’s clothes, the ones Berlin had forced him to put on before they’d gone out for supper. Now they were covered in stains, smelling of sweat and alcohol, and his shirt missed a few buttons in the middle. It was crazy to think that it had been less than 24 hours since his last visit. Berlin would be relieved if he could see Palermo in yesterday’s state. He didn’t know where to start to fix this.

“Let’s get you under the shower and out of the clothes. They’re covered in vomit.”

“S’tat the only way I can get you to undress me? Wha’ever, I’ll take it,” Palermo muttered in a self-deprecating manner, swaying slightly and hitting his hip against the white, porcelain sink, before tumbling forward. Had Berlin not been there to catch him he would have fallen facedown on the ground.

Gently, Berlin took him by the arm and led him to the shower. He tried not to hurl as a piece of vomit touched his finger while he unbuttoned Palermo’s dress shirt. He could handle blood and open wounds, but this was making Berlin’s stomach turn upside-down.

Palermo stood as still as possible, lifting his arms and legs accordingly as Berlin took first his shirt and then his pants off.

Berlin’s original plan had been to win Palermo over, to pull him into a kiss, rip his clothes off and show him exactly how he felt. With Palermo now standing in front of him, stripped down to nothing but his briefs, the last thing on Berlin’s mind was sex.

“Just what the hell am I supposed to do with you?” Berlin muttered quietly, although he could’ve yelled those words just the same. Palermo’s eyes were half-closed, zoned out in whatever world his current state had taken him to.

*


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for substance abuse for the present portion

**Past**

Palermo made a little cluck with his tongue as they stepped into the large vestibule of the farmhouse. The drive out of Paris had been much longer than the promised 55 minutes by the GPS and the silence of the house was almost as deafening as the honking and sirens that had steadily followed them out of the city.

“How did you find this place?” Palermo’s eyes ran over the wooden staircase and rustic oak parquet. They were currently standing in an open, undivided space that made up the entire ground floor. The only walls were exterior and made of large sets of stone and decorated with casement windows that allowed the place to fill with natural sunlight. The kitchen was at the far end of the room and next to it was a wide glass door that led outside to the patio. The rest of the ground floor was taken up by a long, dinner table and several couches spread across the rest of the spatial area.

Berlin watched as Palermo tilted his head upwards, taking in the mouldy ceiling and old logs supporting the roof. An open, wooden stairway led to a wide hallway on the second floor, which was built in a circular mezzanine looking down onto the main floor. From where they were standing, Berlin could see a handful of doors leading to the different rooms upstairs.

Had it been better maintained, the architecture of the house would have been stunning. Berlin had never seen the luxury of the building, only ever its potential. The walls were covered in dust and the floor creaked with every step.

“Make yourself at home,” Berlin grinned at Palermo, pointing up the stairs. “There’s a few bedrooms and the bathrooms on either end of the hallway upstairs.”

He would have given Palermo a proper tour, but Berlin felt tired from the travel and so he headed straight for one of the couches instead.

Whoever had been here last had been thoughtful enough to cover up all the furniture. Berlin ripped the white sheet off one of the cushioned sofas and tried not to cough as all the dust flew into his face.

Palermo didn’t seem to share Berlin’s exhaustion. Unlike Berlin, he’d been sleeping on the plane and hadn’t been the one driving here. He wandered around the room, inspecting the marble fireplace, and opening the fridge, fiddling around with it until the light inside it came on and a soft humming filled the room.

“God, I’m starving. Do you know if there’s a store nearby?” Palermo asked, already grabbing the car keys out of Berlin’s jacket that he’d hung up earlier on the wooden coat rack by the front door.

“There are some wheat fields outside,” Berlin muttered sarcastically, laying down on the couch and closing his heavy eyes. Now that Palermo had mentioned it, his own stomach began to rumble and he regretted not grabbing something quick at the airport, Berlin hadn’t eaten all day. “If you keep going down the road and turn left, I believe, you should get to the town centre.”

“I’ll just use the GPS. Are we ditching the car tonight?”

“No. Marseille said he’d bought it off a junkyard and the plate is fake. It shouldn’t raise any suspicion if we keep it.”

“Marseille, huh?”

Berlin shut his eyes even tighter, wishing he could tune out Palermo’s suggestive comments as well. “Weren’t you on your way out?”

*

When Berlin woke up a few hours later, it took him a moment to make sense of his surrounding. Slowly, he sat up and rotated his head, hearing little cracks in his neck and shoulders as he did so. He’d slept wrong, his entire neck felt stiff and his arm was asleep. Berlin shook his hand to try and get the blood to start circulating, hating the tingly feeling that shot through his entire arm.

He looked around, wondering if Palermo was downstairs with him. Some canned food, a bag of pasta, and a loaf of bread were sitting on one of the counters. Berlin’s stomach churned at the sight. He wondered where Palermo was and if he’d cooked any food for himself yet.

“Martín?” Berlin’s voice came out husky and echoed through the empty room.

No response.

Berlin shrugged and got up, stalking over to the fridge in hopes of finding Palermo’s leftovers in there. To his dismay, the fridge was empty except for a wheel of brie, of which a small triangle had already been cut out off.

Berlin’s stomach gave a loud rumble and he figured a little snack before supper couldn’t hurt. It would take him a while to get the meal ready, especially since Palermo hadn’t prepared anything before disappearing on him.

Berlin rummaged through the kitchen drawers, looking for a knife to cut the cheese with and a pot to boil the pasta in.

Although it was the beginning of autumn and the sun was beginning to settle behind the little forest outside the house, the temperature outside remained hot and humid. Berlin could feel his shirt clinging to his skin as the water began to boil in the rusty pot and steam filled the kitchen area.

This is why he hated cooking. It was uncomfortable, messy, and, frankly, Berlin had better things to do with his time than waste it in a kitchen all day.

His stomach gave another rumble in protest and Berlin cut himself another generous piece off the cheese. It would have to do for now until supper was ready.

Berlin’s back still hurt and the nap had only made him more tired. Maybe Palermo was sleeping. Berlin was tempted to go upstairs and check the bedrooms. Palermo, Berlin had to admit, was a wonderful cook and Berlin would rather search the entire house for him than stand-alone at the stove for another ten minutes.

He took the package of spaghetti, cut it open with the knife, and dumped the entire pasta into the pot. If he ended up not finding Palermo, then at least the pasta would be cooked by the time Berlin got back into the kitchen.

Berlin left the boiling pot unattended and treaded up the old, wooden staircases that gave a creak with every step. There were three bedrooms in total. The door farthest to the left was closed and it was the first Berlin entered.

The room was tiny and stood empty except for a grey mattress thrown in the center. A big, wide window took up most of the wall across from the door. Berlin looked outside and could see the sun setting far off in the distance. There was a chimney on the left wall that hadn’t been used in decades and a milky mirror hung above it. The tapestry was faded and the wooden planks that made up the floor were rustic and covered in long, white scratches.

Nothing in particular caught Berlin’s attention and so he left the room quickly and moved on to the next. This one caught Berlin by surprise. His suitcase and all the other stuff he’d left in the car had been brought up to this room. The suitcase was sitting on a metal stool and the rest on a wooden secretariat. The room was much bigger than the first one he’d been in. Berlin walked around, looking through the window that offered the same view as the first, the sun had now almost disappeared completely. The mattress was dusty but two neatly folded blankets were sitting on top of it, along with a yellow pillow that looked as if it had once been white.

The last few weeks at Sergio’s house had provided Berlin with little sleep. He’d go out at night when Palermo was sleeping on the couch, or he’d sleep in a crouched position in the armchair that always left his neck stiff and hurting like crazy the next day. Luckily, Palermo had quickly picked up on Berlin’s refusal to share the couch with him and had disappeared every other night, leaving Berlin the couch to himself.

It would be an understatement to say Berlin was excited to sleep on an actual mattress in his own room by himself again.

He glanced over his stuff to see if Palermo had maybe left a note there indicating his whereabouts, but Berlin found nothing of that sort and left the room to check out the third and final one.

It was about as big as the first one but had a little bit more furniture in it. A wooden desk, chair, and nightstand, along with a wooden bed frame and thick mattress were decorating the room. The fireplace had a few small logs placed in it and the window was open, letting a soft, cold breeze enter the room.

Palermo’s stuff was carelessly thrown onto the bed and his suitcase left open. Palermo, however, was not found in this bedroom either and Berlin was starting to wonder just where the hell he could be.

Perhaps he was in one of the bathrooms. Berlin shut the door behind him and stood in the hallway when he smelled something burned. _Fuck_. The food. He’d almost forgotten about it. Quickly, Berlin went down the stairs and toward the kitchen.

He was already imagining the pasta completely boiled over and the entire kitchen underwater, when Berlin came to a sudden halt and stared at the man by the stove.

“I thought you’d changed your mind and ran off,” Berlin said casually, deliberately choosing to not mention the supper Palermo was currently tending to.

“I could say the same thing to you,” Palermo’s smile was a little bit too cocky for Berlin’s liking. “Decided you didn’t want pasta after all?”

“Where did you go?”

“Out for a walk. You were busy snoring on the couch so I needed to find myself a new conversation partner.”

Berlin’s stomach chose to respond before his mouth could. A loud growl filled the room that was followed by yet another a smirk on Palermo’s end. “The food should be ready in a bit, I just need to make the sauce.”

Berlin -wanting to speed up the process and feeling slightly useless just standing there- said: “Do you need help?”

“You know how back in the days, sailors used to believe women on the ship brought bad luck? That’s how I feel with you in the kitchen. Go unpack your stuff or something, I’ll call you when it’s ready.”

*

* * *

**Present**

Palermo was sleeping soundly in the cheap futon. The bed along with an old, wooden dresser made up the only furniture in the bedroom. From the looks of it, Berlin didn’t think Palermo had spent many nights in here. Compared to the rest of the apartment, it was fairly clean. Some balled up pieces of clothing were thrown around here and there, but other than that it wasn’t too bad. Berlin opened the bedroom window a little bit to let some fresh air in and felt a cold, refreshing breeze on his face.

He didn’t know what to do now. Berlin felt too restless to just sit at Palermo’s side and wait for him to wake up, but he didn’t want to leave the apartment either.

Aimlessly, Berlin walked back into the main area of the apartment, opening the windows and pulling the curtains away. The sun rays fell on the shards of diamond and Berlin -not knowing what else to do and itching to just do _something_ \- took it as a sign.

It took him a while to find a broom and dustpan in the apartment building, but once Berlin was holding both in his hands, one garbage bag was quickly filled after the next.

By the time all the empty bottles had gradually disappeared from the apartment and _Waterloo_ was softly playing on the record player, Berlin was starting to feel a lot better and his mind felt clear enough to rethink his situation over.

He’d briefly thought about abandoning Palermo; Berlin wasn’t the type to stay behind and help someone through their mental struggle. It might even do Palermo some good to get over this himself. Berlin would just come back once Palermo wasn’t such an emotional mess.

Of course, after Berlin had wasted almost half-an-hour debating the option and getting rid of the vomit on the carpet, he began to realize the utter absurdness of his earlier thought. He would stay and help Palermo out until Berlin was back on his good side again. Once he-

A knock on the door interrupted Berlin’s stream of thought.

Strange. He didn’t realize Palermo had any friends in Sicily, not close enough ones to come visit him at home anyway. Maybe someone had just mixed up the apartment numbers and knocked on the wrong door.

Curious to see who it was, Berlin leaned the broom against the wall and opened the door. He was faced with a young, dark-haired man wearing sunglasses. He was about a foot shorter than Berlin and twice as lanky. Spurts of stubbles littered his cheek and served as a weak attempt at covering up his otherwise boyish, round face.

“Can I help you?” Berlin asked, making sure the annoyance in his voice was clear. His eyes ran over the young man, taking in the black hoodie and yellow sweatpants. He looked ridiculous and Berlin couldn’t fathom in what way Palermo knew this kid.

“Just here to drop this off.” The man grinned self-righteously and pulled out a little plastic bag out of his pocket. It contained the same fine, white powder Berlin had just spent the last little bit cleaning off the couch.

Anger boiled up inside of Berlin at the sight. Nevertheless, he smiled and opened the door widely. “Come in, come in.”

The man looked hesitant, forcing Berlin to pull him inside. “Nothing to be afraid of,” Berlin smiled reassuringly until the door was securely shut behind him.

“I have a few more errands to run, signore. I should get going,” the boy stuttered and avoided eye contact.

“Already? I’ve just invited you in. Hasn’t anyone ever taught you that it’s rude to leave so soon? We haven’t even gotten the chance to get to know each other better.”

“I – uhm, I…”

Berlin didn’t give him the chance to stammer a complete response. Within seconds, he had the man nailed against the door and pulled his sweatpants’ pockets inside-out. Several other plastic bags dropped onto the floor, heightening Berlin’s anger.

Berlin kneed him hard between the legs to which the boy gave a soft groan and his body went limp; Berlin had to hold him upright to stop him from sliding down the wall. The fact that he didn’t even try to fight only intensified Berlin’s urge to hurt him more.

One punch followed another until blood began running down Berlin’s knuckles and a loud crack was heard as Berlin’s fist hit him straight on the nose.

Breathing heavily, Berlin let go of him and took a step back, watching as the boy sacked to the floor and began wincing in pain, holding his hand against his bloody face and covering his now broken nose.

The anger in Berlin, however, hadn’t subsided. He kicked him in the ribs a few times, hearing another satisfying _crack_ , and then went down to crouch beside him, picking up one of the small plastic bags and dumping its contents right over the man’s face.

“Don’t they always tell you not to buy from someone who doesn’t try the stuff himself,” Berlin said in a mundane, chit-chat voice while ripping another bag open. “Have you ever had this? You’re supposed to snort this, you know, so I strongly suggest you stop covering up your nose.”

The man didn’t move. Berlin ripped the man’s hands off his face and watched as the white powder of the second bag decorated his bruised lips and bloody nose. He screamed in agony and Berlin took both empty bags and stuffed them in the man’s mouth.

“Don’t ever let me see you here again, understood?”

Berlin pulled him up by the elbow and pushed him out of the apartment, slamming the door shut.

As he locked the door and turned around to face the apartment, Berlin couldn’t help but sigh. The entire entrance was covered with bloodspots and powder.

ABBA’s greatest hits were still playing in the background and Berlin tried to hum himself back into a good mood as he scoured the apartment for a mop.

*

By the time Berlin heard a soft moan coming from the bedroom, the apartment was cleaned up, the sun was setting, and Berlin -overcome with exhaustion- was resting his sore body on the couch.

“Andrés? Are you still there?” Palermo croaked loudly. The confusion and distortion in his voice were almost palpable.

Berlin couldn’t help but give out a small groan as he sat back up and pushed himself off the couch. He almost wished that Palermo would have slept a few more hours to allow Berlin to get some rest as well.

Trepidation suddenly crept over him as he made his way to the bedroom. Most of the time he’d spent cleaning this place, Berlin had forced himself to focus solely on the physical task on hand and think of nothing else. Now that this distraction was gone and Palermo was calling for him, Berlin felt ill-prepared for the conversation to be had.

“How long was I out for?” The words came out low and raspy. Berlin had to resist the urge to run back to the kitchen and get Palermo a glass of water. He wasn’t his fucking servant.

He decided against going into the bedroom and chose to lean against the doorway instead. Shrugging his shoulders almost a touch too casually and ignoring the way the sun had now completely settled, he said: “A few hours. I didn’t exactly keep track.”

The colour on Palermo’s face still looked too pale and the bags underneath his eyes hadn’t disappeared completely, but he looked vastly more awake and alive than before. Berlin considered it a personal win. He’d taken good care of Palermo today. Berlin could do this.

They were quiet for a while. Palermo closed his eyes every few seconds, blinking heavily and fighting to stay awake. Berlin did his best not to stare at him while he tried to figure out what the hell to do with his hands.

Palermo’s dry coughing fit eventually killed the silence between the two. “Man, I feel like absolute shit. My throat feels like sandpaper.”

He sat up straight on the edge of the futon, waiting for a few seconds for the headrush to pass. Once up and standing, Palermo shambled barefoot over to the window and pushed the blinds aside. It was almost completely dark outside and a bright yellow streetlight shone into the room.

“Fuck it’s cold,” Palermo muttered and shut the window with a loud slam. He was still dressed in nothing but his underwear and rubbed his naked arm with the palm of his hand. Finally, Palermo turned around and made eye contact with Berlin, “Are you staying the night?”

“No, I will sleep at the hotel.”

“Dale,” Berlin tried to read Palermo’s face but it was getting too dark in the room to properly deduce how he felt about Berlin’s answer.

Still standing in the doorway, Berlin took a step back to let Palermo pass him. As he did so, Palermo scrunched his nose. “Why do you reek of bleach?”

Berlin didn’t bother to answer, choosing instead to wait for Palermo to see the apartment for himself.

“Oh fuck me. Did you do that?”

“No, I rolled around in this pigsty all day while you were snoring in the next room.”

“You didn’t have to clean up.”

“I did if I wanted to keep my nose intact.”

“Thank you.” Palermo didn’t look at Berlin, his naked back was facing Berlin as Palermo rummaged around in one of the cupboards in the kitchen.

The conversation felt awkward and Berlin didn’t know what to say to change the atmosphere that had settled between them. He quietly watched Palermo fill himself a glass of water and eagerly gulp the liquid down in one go.

“Have you eaten yet?” Palermo asked, finally looking at him with hopeful eyes that Berlin couldn’t interpret. He’d never seen Palermo act so shy before. _Was he uncomfortable around Berlin?_

Clearly, it was time for Berlin to leave. Palermo was awake and Berlin had rid the apartment of all the drugs and alcohol he could find. There was no reason for Berlin to stay any longer.

“No, I will get something on my way back.”

“Oh okay,” Palermo put his empty glass on the counter and opened the fridge. “I could make us something.”

The temptation to stay and have supper with him like they used to was evidently there in Berlin’s chest. He yearned for nothing more than to spend the night under the same roof as Palermo again.

Berlin’s eyes roamed over Palermo’s body. He’d lost weight over the last few weeks. Palermo’s spine poked out as he bent over, rummaging in the fridge. Berlin’s eyes travelled further down to Palermo’s round ass that was covered in black briefs.

“How does canned ravioli sound?” Palermo looked over his shoulder and gave him a sheepish smile. Berlin’s eyes snapped away from Palermo’s muscular, naked thighs and toward the empty fridge. A few hours ago it had been filled with rotten food and half empty bottles.

“Tempting,” Berlin winked at him playfully. “Save me some for tomorrow.”

“You’re leaving already?” He sounded disappointed. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay the night?”

Yesterday, he’d pushed Berlin away and today he was clinging for Berlin to keep him company. As much as Berlin wanted to, he shook his head and made his way toward the door. Berlin put his hands in the pockets of his jacket, hiding how deep his nails dug into his flesh. The urge to grab Palermo and carry him back into the bedroom was there, consuming every part of Berlin’s body, but for once in his life, Berlin resisted the urge and tried to do the right thing.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

*

The cool, night air felt good as Berlin walked back to the hotel. His stomach made itself audible as he walked past a row of restaurants. He would get some takeout food once he was closer to the hotel.

“Beautiful night out, isn’t it?”

Berlin continued his walk, but turned his head to see who had spoken to him. An old woman sitting alone at a restaurant outside smiled warmly at him. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen the stars this bright and the sky so clear.”

Berlin stopped and fully faced her. He returned her smile with a charming one of his own. He wondered why the hell this woman was talking to him and his curious nature nagged at him to find out.

Berlin craned his neck, staring at the sky. She was right, it was a beautiful night. Around the half-full moon danced hundreds of twinkling stars.

“It’s breathtaking. I can’t remember the last time I’ve gone out at night just to look at the stars,” Berlin admitted honestly.

“Sometimes we’re so busy rushing through life, we forget to cherish the little things.”

“Isn’t that true,” the server answered, cutting into their conversation and placing a glass of red wine in front of the woman. He turned to look at Berlin. “Will you be joining the table, signore?”

The woman waved her hand dismissively to show that this had not been her intention, but before she could say anything, Berlin widened his smile and walked closer to the round metal table and chairs. He felt intrigued by the woman and Berlin welcomed the distraction she offered. “I’d love to.”

*


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally getting to that turning point ;)

**Past**

“Morning Sunshine,” Berlin grinned up from his coffee cup when Palermo finally came trotting down the stairs. He was wearing nothing but briefs, his hair stuck out as if a bomb had exploded, and he was rubbing his eyes consistently as he got closer to Berlin and Marseille sitting at the kitchen table.

“Gmhmmhm,” Palermo responded, blinking in confusion at the stranger.

Marseille had arrived very early in the morning. Although Berlin looked physically awake thanks to the cold shower he’d taken, he was mentally still desperately hanging onto his bedsheets. Half of what Marseille explained to him went right over Berlin’s head and he wished he’d postponed the meetup until tomorrow. Berlin very much needed his rest days. Palermo had certainly taken advantage of his.

“Marseille, meet our mastermind Martín.”

Palermo nodded his head in acknowledgement, mumbled something incomprehensible, and turned around and left to go back upstairs.

“He seems nice,” Marseille noted dryly and Berlin gave a half-suppressed laugh.

“I wouldn’t jump so fast to that conclusions. His first impression can be very deceiving.”

“You pulled a heist with him before?”

Berlin nodded proudly, happy to brag about the job. “We took the Harry Winston necklace at the Madrid jewellery show this summer.”

Marseille reaction was disappointing. He shrugged his shoulders unimpressed. “Never heard of it. But I trust your judgement on the fella.”

“Flattered,” Berlin smirked and got up to make himself another cup of coffee. He filled the Moka pot with water and ground coffee and set it on the stove. While he waited for the water to boil, he heard a familiar set of footsteps descending down the stairs once more.

Palermo appeared in the kitchen, fully dressed and looking more awake this time. His short, brown hair was still wet from the quick shower he’d taken and a dab of water dropped onto his forehead.

Berlin turned the stove off and, being the ever-good host, generously poured all three of them a cup.

“So what’s the plan?” Palermo asked once they were all sitting around the dining table, sipping on their respective coffees.

“Marseille and I will drive to Paris and check out the museum hosting the exhibition. See what kind of security is in place and get a good idea of the floor plan.”

“And what will I do?”

“You,” Berlin reached over and grabbed a piece of paper sitting at the edge of the table. “Are going to apply for a job. It’s about time you put some food on this table.”

Berlin gloated while Palermo groaned as he read over the job advertisement.

“The sewage? You’re not serious about this, Andrés?”

“I heard it’s fascinating to see. All the different tunnels and pipes they have there…. Plus we need a Plan B in case the escape goes askew. Having access and knowledge of the underground is an integral part of the heist.”

Palermo gave him a nasty look but went to pick up the poster again to study it more carefully.

*

Berlin was still gloating as he stepped out of Marseille’s VW Golf and breathed in the cool Parisian air. It was a quiet morning, the summer season had officially passed and only a few tourists were walking up and down the streets, stopping every few seconds to take pictures.

“We should get those shirts too,” Berlin said to Marseille, making fun of a family of four all dressed in _I_ _♡ Paris_ t-shirts.

“I don’t like uniforms,” Marseille commented. He was a man of a few words and Berlin had yet to see him crack a joke or smile with ease. Nevertheless, he was a good friend of a friend and Berlin had been promised that he was trustworthy.

They walked in silence toward the museum, Marseille looking straight ahead and Berlin taking everything in. Not much had changed since he’d been here last, he was familiar with the church they’d passed by and the little shops and cafés lining up in rows toward their destination. Of course, some of the names had changed and undergone renovation, but in the end, it was still the same old Paris Berlin loved and cursed.

They walked on the Quai Anatole-Paris, the Seine glistering beautifully in the sun and sending a cool breeze along their way. Berlin was watching a few birds fly low above the water when he felt a swift tug at his side. Abruptly, he spun around and reached his arm out, grabbing whoever’s hand had just sneaked inside his blazer pocket.

His fingers curled around a slim wrist. Locking his grip, Berlin pulled the pickpocket closer to him until they were standing chest to chest.

“Your technique is too sloppy,” Berlin noted wryly, looking condescendingly at the young woman’s fierce green eyes. She was a bit shorter than him with curly black her framing her face. Had she looked at him with anything but disgust and anger, Berlin might have thought her pretty, but as it was, Berlin busied himself with more entertaining actions.

As she struggled to break free from him, Berlin snug his hand into her flap purse. In one, well-practiced motion, he undid the magnetic button with his thumb and fished out three wallets at once.

“Busy morning, huh?” Berlin grinned, showing the woman his findings. She stared at him in astonishment, completely forgetting to try to push Berlin away and escape.

“Qui êtes-vous?” She hissed at him, taking back the wallets with her free hand and shoving them back into her purse. “This is my corner.”

“Corner? I didn’t realize low-life thieves were structured enough to have their own section. Maybe I should have a word with your union representative concerning your poor job performance.” With that, Berlin loosened his grip, but only just so. The woman acted just like a dog about to run free, finding herself still stuck, just held back by a laxer leash.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Berlin muttered quietly, pulling her back in again. “I believe you still owe me an apology.”

“Va te faire foutre!”

Berlin cocked his hand, tightening his grip until his fingernails dug into her skin. He watched as she bit her lip, trying to suppress the pain.

“Now, let’s try this again, shall we?”

She looked him up and down, taking in his meticulously put together outfit. She bit her lip ever so slightly and looked at him coyly. “I’m sorry, _monsieur_ ,” she finally said with a hint of flirtation in her voice.

“It’s not all that difficult to say, is it?” Berlin was satisfied, but didn’t let go of her just yet. His voice more harshly, he added: “Stay off this area for the next few weeks. I don’t want to see you here again.”

The girl nodded obediently and Berlin released her, not bothering to watch as she walked away with quick steps and swaying hips. Marseille, Berlin realized, had disappeared on him.

Berlin walked down to the quai, scanning the docks until he saw a familiar set of long hair, mustache, cotton t-shirt, and washed out jeans.

“Ready to get going?”

*

* * *

**Present**

The beach was vacant except for the two of them. It was a calm, cool night. As they headed toward the water, the sound of splashing waves against the shoreline became louder and louder. The light of the buildings around the beach was enough to make out the outline of small boats and lounge chairs spread out around the long stretch of sand they crossed.

“My husband and I used to come here almost every night when we were young. We’d kick our shoes off and race to the sea, with our feet digging into the cold sand.”

Berlin had no idea what he was doing or why he had agreed to accompany the old lady to the beach. Since he’d sat down at the restaurant, the woman hadn’t stopped talking about her life and half of what she said sounded like complete nonsense. At least her stories took his mind off Palermo and kept him from mulling around alone in his hotel room.

“When was the last time you did that?”

“Did what?” Berlin was zoning in and out of the conversation and, as such, wasn’t sure what she was referring to.

“Kicked your shoes off and just ran, jumped into the water with your clothes on!”

Berlin skimmed through the few memories he had of himself at the beach, drawing blanks until he finally remembered one. “I did it once,” he answered after several seconds had passed. “During the honeymoon of my first marriage.”

The old lady sighed, “It’s a wonderful feeling, isn’t it? Young love and the promises of forever. Just take a look at the ocean, it’s hard to imagine it ever ending somewhere.”

Berlin stared at the black water, watching the curl of the waves form as far as he could see. It seemed impossible for it to hide anything, for there to be another beach somewhere far away in the distance, for there to be another person staring at him from across the sea.

“Do you think someone is standing at the other end of this shore right now?”

“I’m sure there is. The question, however, is what we want to find in the person on the other side; if it’s worth crossing over.”

Berlin stayed quiet for a while, trying to formulate a response. Old memories wrapped around his mind like cobwebs and he was struggling to find his way out.

“Are you coming or what?” The woman yelled at him, running in small, slow steps toward the water, holding her pair of shoes in one hand.

Berlin watched her in amusement but stayed where he was.

“C’mon, don’t be a coward!” She called over the crashing of the waves.

_Are you a coward? Where is your desire? You’re a fucking coward you know that!_ Her words triggered the opening of a dam and memories began flooding Berlin’s brain until it felt like he was drowning.

Maybe he should go into the water. Berlin went down to untie his shoes and watched as his hands began to shake, trying to get a hold of the thin laces. He looked up to see the old lady splash around in the water, her body rising and falling with the waves. All night she’d told him stories of her late husband.

Berlin’s mind wandered back to the airport and the old woman he’d met there, supporting her husband.

His fingers had just pulled the strings apart when something in Berlin’s brain clicked. He tied his shoes again and walked closer to the ocean until the water danced around his shoes.

“Coming in?”

Berlin shook his head, despite it being almost completely dark out. He could faintly make out the silhouette of the woman in the water, he doubted she could see the outline of his face.

“I have to go now,” he told her earnestly. “There’s someone I need to see.”

“It better be to find the person standing on the other side of the shore. I won’t accept any other excuse.”

Berlin laughed, feeling almost giddy. “I’m afraid I’m referring back to our earlier conversation. I don’t need to cross the ocean for this. After all, the stars are shining on either side. I just needed to be reminded to look up and find them.”

*

It wasn’t until Berlin was standing outside of the apartment that the doubts began clouding over his decision again. He hesitated as his hands wrapped around the cold, metal door handle. He could do this. After all, the worst had already happened, he didn’t have much to lose by doing this.

Half-expecting for the front door to be locked, Berlin pushed down on the handle and was surprised when the door swung open. Trying to make himself feel more confident, Berlin walked up the stairs with long, sturdy steps. As he pushed the door to Palermo’s apartment open, Berlin’s eyes immediately fell on the couch where Palermo was lying motionlessly.

*


	22. Chapter 22

**Past**

“Video surveillance and security guards scan the premises 24 hours a day and each room has its own infrared system. We’ll have to override the alarm system and either find a way inside through the roof or the basement,” Berlin explained over supper after Marseille had dropped him off at the country house.

Palermo’s eyes roamed over the floor plans of the museum. “The exhibition will be on the second floor, right? The building only has three stories, so we can easily make it up the roof. Once we disable the alarm and cameras, we can rope off through this window and exit the same way we entered.”

Berlin nodded in agreement and dove into further detail, how many security guards were standing where, when their shift was over, where the cameras were located. He’d have to go back tomorrow to gather more intel, but Berlin and Marseille had found out enough information today to form the basis of the plan.

“Did anything else exciting happen?” Palermo asked with a hint of jealousy in his voice. “I’m just asking because I saw a few squirrels outside today and I don’t want to boast about if your day in the city turned out to be too dull.”

“I cleaned up the streets of Pairs,” Berlin mused, remembering this morning, and began to grin. “There was a pickpocket right by the museum. I had to caution her to stay away.”

“The true hero the city deserves,” Palermo mocked. “Did you save a sweet, old lady from getting her purse stolen?”

Berlin laughed, unable to picture him doing such a thing, but also wishing it had happened this way. “No, the girl put her hand in my blazer pocket. Her technique was very lamentable, I had to show her the proper way.”

“I didn’t realize you were a professional pickpocket. You have to forgive my ignorance, Alteza.”

“All of the greatest thieves started their career with pickpocketing.”

“And you’re the master of them all, no?”

“Preciso. Are you doubting my abilities?” Berlin asked somewhat offended, noting the sarcasm laced thick in Palermo’s voice.

“I judge by what I see.”

Berlin knew where this was heading. He could feel the adrenaline rushing through him. They were going to be stuck together for the next few weeks, a little friendly competition couldn’t hurt to keep them entertained.

“How did the job search go?”

“I found a way to avoid it, so it went just as well as the last few civilized jobs I also never applied to.” Palermo lazily slid the floorplan over to Berlin. “You see that little room there? The one with the two doors? That’s our little Narnia. Bur for now, querido, let’s talk about the more important task at hand. What are you going to steal from me, huh? My wallet? Or are you confident enough to take something else from me? I’ve lost my virginity so that’s off the table, but we’ve tried that one already anyway.”

Berlin gave Palermo a cool stare as his last few words brought back memories that hit Berlin like a wrecking ball. They’d made a promise to never mention that night ever again. _Whatever_. If Palermo had to scoop that low to provoke him, Berlin could step up his game too. Since the job ad hadn’t worked out, Berlin needed to find a new way to get back at and humiliate Palermo anyway.

He rummaged through every corner of his brain, trying to find anything that he could use against Palermo. Berlin wasn’t oblivious to the effect he had on Palermo. The little side-way glances Palermo gave him, the occasional gleam of adoration with which he would look at him, or the way Palermo hung on every word on his lips when Berlin spoke. Berlin had certainly noticed all of it. Whether it was just an act or truly how Palermo felt about him, Berlin now had the chance of finding out.

“Why don’t we both take something from the other? See who’s the better thief? We both wear watches, don’t we? First person to steal the other’s wins.”

Palermo leaned back in his chair, folding his fingers in front of his chest. His eyes ran up and down Berlin almost too casually. “And what would you like as your grand prize to be this time?”

Berlin bit his lip, trying his best to keep his pokerface and not smirk prematurely before the words were out. “A date with you.”

Palermo’s eyes widened for a split second before narrowing on him. “Cut the bullshit. What do you actually want?”

“I’m serious,” Berlin reassured him calmly. “You didn’t really give me a chance last time, so I’d like to give us another try.”

“You don’t like me, Andrés. You’ve made that pretty fucking clear these last few weeks. So what the hell do you really want out of this?”

Berlin lifted his hands up in innocence. “I’m an open book. You don’t need to accept the challenge if you’re worried about losing and facing the potential consequences.”

“No, fuck that, I accept,” Palermo agreed hastily. He gave Berlin a suspecting look. “But if I win, I get to keep your watch.”

_Bingo._ Just as Berlin had suspected.

“Deal,” Berlin finally allowed himself to smile and put his hand out. Palermo’s warm palm pressed against his, his fingertips tightly grabbed around Berlin’s skin. Berlin looked down as the two shook hands, both their watches glistering in the light.

*

* * *

**Present**

“Back already?” Palermo opened his eyes and grinned up at him from the sofa. “I knew you couldn’t resist my world renown ravioli. There’s still some left on the counter if you’re hungry.”

He nodded toward the kitchen area to which Berlin shook his head. “That’s not what I’m here for.”

“Oh, no?” Palermo raised a questioning eyebrow at him and changed into a sitting position. He still looked a little pale, the green in his eyes not fully back to vibrant yet. Although his current appearance was a vast improvement from this morning; a part of Berlin had expected to find Palermo drunk and drugged up, passed out on the couch again.

His eyes roamed over Palermo’s face now, taking in every little detail he could make out in the half-lit room. Palermo had shaven and thrown on a royal blue dress shirt along with a pair of black jeans that snug tightly around his thighs. _He looked handsome… hot_.

Even if Berlin didn’t vocalize his thoughts, it still felt strange to think about Palermo this way when they were only a few feet apart. Over the years, Berlin had never given his feelings for Palermo any thought, had never permitted himself to analyze the meaning of them. Although their relationship hadn’t altered, Berlin’s perspective certainly had changed over the past few weeks. He enjoyed playing with the words in confidence as he continued taking in the rest of Palermo’s physique. _Sexy. Fuckable._ Berlin’s eyes lingered on the muscular arms resting lazily on the back of the couch.

In one impulsive movement, Berlin grabbed Palermo by the arm and pulled him up. A waft of ambrosial shampoo drifted into Berlin’s nostrils and made him inhale sharply. “Let’s go.” His voice came out deeper and raspier than he’d intended to.

Palermo didn’t try to hold back any enthusiasm. “Whatever it is you want to do, can’t it wait until tomorrow? I still feel like absolute shit when I’m not sitting down.”

Berlin pursed his lips, he hadn’t considered Palermo rejecting his offer. He had to remind himself to loosen his grip on Palermo and take a step back. “It’s now or never, hermano. You can’t be wasting your life away mulling around on this couch. There are places to see, people to meet.”

Berlin grinned confidently at Palermo who gave him a skeptical look in return. After a few seconds of uninterrupted eye contact, Palermo sighed and looked away. “Fine, but I’m not packing anything and you’re driving.”

Berlin’s smile widened. “Deal.”

*

Berlin hated admitting it to himself but his initial plan of a romantic road trip might have been a bit too ideal to be executed on a whim. By the time he’d finally found a car to steal and driven it to the apartment, Palermo had been dead asleep on the couch. Convincing Palermo to get up and come with him had taken almost as long as getting the car and it was now well past midnight.

The highway was almost empty. Every few minutes a bright beam of lights rushed past them while Berlin’s attention kept drifting to the passenger seat where Palermo was sleeping soundly. His mouth was slightly agape and his chest rose and fell slowly. Berlin almost envied him. He still hadn’t gotten used to the musty smell that seemed to be ingrained in the fabric seats and the air conditioner was broken, making the car feel extra hot in Berlin’s three-piece suit.

Berlin yawned and longed for a coffee. It wasn’t a long drive, however, and he didn’t want to risk anything by pulling into a drive-through with a stolen car- even if the vehicle was a piece of trash that he doubted anyone would miss. He was genuinely surprised the car hadn’t broken down on them yet.

Stifling another yawn, Berlin opted for listening to some music. After a few unsuccessful seconds of fiddling with the radio that filled the car with nothing but static, Berlin pressed on mode and a CD started to play.

_“Y pensar que me dejas por un desengaño,  
por una aventura que ya he olvidado.  
No quieres mirarme. No quieres hablar.  
Tu orgullo está herido. Te quieres marchar.”_

“Si me dejas, no vale,” Berlin murmured, singing along quietly and tapping the wheel to the beat of the song.

“What the-” Palermo stirred in his seat and looked around himself in confusion until his eyes settled on Berlin. “Where the fuck are we?”

“Almost there,” Berlin shot him a winning smile and returned to singing along to the chorus, more loudly this time.

Palermo sighed and extended his arms in front of him, balling his hands into fists and stretching languidly. “Wake me up when we’re there.”

Berlin continued humming seemingly unstirred, but his attention kept steering back to Palermo. His eyes were shut tightly and he didn’t move. His mouth was closed and his breathing steady. Berlin had spent too many nights with Palermo to know he wasn’t asleep.

Not knowing how to use this piece of information to his advantage, Berlin went for the most obvious option and turned up the volume.

_“Deja todo en la cama y háblame sin rencor._

_Si yo te hice daño, te pido perdón._

_Si te he traicionado, no fue de verdad._

_El amor siempre queda y el momento se va.”_

“Si me dejas, no vale,” Berlin sang from the top of his lungs wishing he knew the rest of the lyrics. A wide grin spread over his face as Berlin caught Palermo with his eyes open.

“Trouble sleeping?” Berlin asked loudly over the music blasting from the crappy stereo.

“I’m trying to match my counting of sheep to the beat of the music,” Palermo answered dryly.

“Are you feeling better?”

Berlin had to concentrate on passing a car, but he could clearly hear Palermo huffing in response. “Are you, Andrés? You’ve been acting like a completely different fucking person since you got here.”

Berlin stayed quiet, mulling Palermo’s words over. Had his change really been that obvious?

“I’m sorry.”

The words were said quietly, as if Palermo had uttered them to himself rather than to Berlin. Berlin turned the volume down and looked at Palermo. The car was swaying slightly by his lack of focus, but Palermo seemed as if he had more to say and Berlin didn’t want to miss a breath of it.

“Your brother was right about me. If I lose control, I can’t-” Palermo sighed in frustration and looked out the window.

Berlin took the exit to Paternò and waited patiently for Palermo to continue. An entire song played in silence before Palermo spoke up again.

“I don’t know who I’ve been since I left the monastery. I can barely keep my shit together and every day, you know how they always say it gets better with time? I feel more miserable with every fucking sleepless night that passes. And now that you’re here, cleaning up after me, moving my finger away from the trigger, I’m just, _fuck_ -.” Palermo exhaled sharply and stopped looking out the window, turning his head to face Berlin. “Your brother was right. Not even a hundred men can carry the emotional baggage I’ve got tied around my back. I can’t be part of a heist like this, I’d blow the whole building up trying to help.”

“You know that wasn’t Sergio’s reasoning,” Berlin said calmly. He tried not to process anything else Palermo had just told him. There’d be time to unwind everything later. For now, Berlin had to keep his composure.

Another huff joined with a quiet, self-deprecating laugh was heard from the passenger seat. “No, but that was all bullshit anyway. Sergio’s got too much of a soft spot to spit the truth out. Everyone’s egocentric, at least everyone in our line of business. Why the fuck would I be hungry for power if I can barely keep myself in control? But he already told you all of that anyway, no?” Palermo added with a calculating glance in Berlin’s direction.

Berlin slowed down the car. They were off the highway now and he had to figure out where to go from here. He’d never been to this part of Sicily before, the lady at the restaurant had only briefly mentioned this place to him.

The road was dark and surrounded by large patches of wheat fields. No other car was in sight and Berlin fiddled with the light switch. He first turned it left and it made the headlights turn off completely, engulfing them in darkness. Cursing, Berlin twisted the knob the other way until the high-beams came on and allowed him to see a few feet further into the distance.

He stole a quick glance at Palermo who was back to staring out the window.

Berlin didn’t think his next decision over. Maybe it was his lack of sleep or the yearning for an adrenaline rush that made him do it. He seldomly took time to reflect on the source of his impulsiveness. At this moment, all he wanted to focus on was Palermo.

Berlin pressed down on the gas pedal and let go of the wheel.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Palermo abruptly turned his head away from the window.

Berlin ignored him. He turned the knob behind the wheel all the way to the left, shutting the light off and damning the road ahead of them into a pit of blackness.

“Let’s see how much control you can really handle.”

*


	23. Chapter 23

**Past**

“When are we going to the Eiffel Tower?” Palermo nagged for the billionth time as they strode around the museum. They were verifying the location of the security cameras and the routine of the guards.

Berlin purposely stopped walking and studied the sculpture presented before him. “What do you think of this piece, Martín? Personally, I’ve never really been a fan of horses.”

Palermo glanced briefly at the small horse statue before he continued walking to the next display. “Would it kill you to hurry up? If you want to look at the art pieces then come back some other time when I’m not wasting my precious life essence away in this place.”

“Then go to the Eiffel Tower yourself. We only have a few rooms left, I can finish up alone,” Berlin said annoyed and continued walking past Palermo.

“No, you need to come with me.”

“If you’re worried about getting lost, I can assure you the tower is fairly easy to find. Just follow the next flock of tourists and you’ll arrive there safe and sound.”

“No,” Palermo argued sternly with a hint of frustration in his voice. “You promised we’d go together.”

“I promised that I would take you once we were done at the bar last night. Of course, I don’t blame you for making other plans, but you should check your priorities next time before you leave someone drinking by himself,” Berlin said reproachfully.

Last night, they’d seen some of the security guards of the museum headed into a local bar after their shift and the two had followed them in the hope of gaining some insider information. However, unless Berlin planned a heist on the Parc des Princes soon, eavesdropping on the guard’s conversation had turned out to be pretty useless. The only one making good use of the time had been Palermo who’d picked up some guy and disappeared. Berlin was still pissed about it. Not only had he been left alone at the bar, but it had also been Palermo’s turn to drive them back to the farmhouse.

“You can’t blame me for having needs, hermano. You use up all the hot water for the shower every morning; I have to get the venom out somehow. Besides, you never set a time limit on the promise and we’re already in the city.”

Berlin suppressed a groan, he didn’t understand why it was so important to Palermo that both of them went. Berlin had seen the Eiffel tower dozens of times, he’d be perfectly content if he missed out today.

“You were such a great tour guide to me in Salamanca! I was hoping you’d continue guiding me through Paris, especially since it’s my first time here.”

“I’ll finish up here while you get the car,” Berlin ordered, regretting the words as he spoke them. It was foggy and windy today and he had no desire to stand outside waiting in line with a bunch of loud and uncultured tourists.

Palermo nodded happily and disappeared, leaving Berlin to scan the rest of the rooms before, he too, made his way toward the exit sign. Once outside, Berlin felt a heavy raindrop hit the top of his head that was quickly followed by a dozen more.

“You do realize you will see absolutely nothing of the city in this fucking weather,” Berlin complained as soon as he slipped into the passenger seat. Raindrops were beginning to fall quick and heavy against the windshield. He was glad he’d chosen to wear his trilby today as he looked down himself and found big, wet spots covering his jacket and dress pants.

Palermo didn’t look any happier. “It was supposed to clear up this afternoon, I checked the forecast last night! Fucking French people not knowing how to predict the goddamn weather, I’m not standing in the fucking rain to look at a bunch of fucking iron.”

“Don’t speak too fondly of the monument.”

Berlin glanced at Palermo while they were waiting at a red light in traffic. The frustration and disappointment were clear on Palermo’s face and something inside of Berlin grew soft at the sight.

“We’ll go first thing tomorrow morning,” Berlin gave in. After all, he had made a promise to take Palermo to the tower. Berlin was a man of his word and, if it would stop Palermo’s nagging and grumpiness, losing a few hours of sleep was a small price to pay. “There are some other spots in the city that I can show you today.”

*

When Berlin had asked Palermo to join him in Paris, he’d done so out of spite with a set plan to make Palermo’s life miserable. Two cafés and a trip to both the Panthéon and Montmartre behind them, the weather forecast had proven to be correct after all. The sky had returned to its crystal blue colour and the evening sun was shining brightly down on them as they entered the Hôtel Biron. Berlin didn’t know what in the world he was doing, but sticking to his original plan certainly wasn’t it.

He found a big smile on his face as he stole a glance at Palermo and the way his eyes widened as they stepped into the first gallery, taking everything in with childlike curiosity and excitement.

“I think I’ve seen this one before,” Palermo said, eagerly walking over to the large, white marble sculpture displayed in the centre of the room.

“Le Baiser,” Berlin provided, following Palermo and stopping to stand next to him, both of them admiring the way the two figures seemed to melt out of the marble stone, infused as one in their kissing embrace. “It’s based on Dante’s Inferno, the two figures represent Paolo and Francesca. She was married to his brother when her husband found the two like this, he killed both of them and they were condemned to wander eternally together through hell.”

“Romantic,” Palermo noted dryly. Something else caught his eye and he pointed at the book held in the male figure’s left hand. “What’s that in his hand?”

“The story of Lancelot and Guinevere. Their passion for each other grew as they read it and resulted in this kiss.”

Palermo furrowed his brows and tore his gaze off the statue in order to look at Berlin. “I didn’t realize Arthurian legends were so erotic.” A grin spread over his lips and he gave Berlin a wink. “All the hype over Excalibur kind of makes sense now looking at it from this perspective.”

Berlin rolled his eyes and walked over to the next statue. A second later, Palermo followed, standing closely behind him.

“Why, Arthur, I’ve heard you’ve got the mightiest sword in the whole kingdom,” Palermo whispered in a high-pitched voice into his ear.

“Are you done?” Berlin asked annoyed and took a step away from Palermo.

“Where’s the Gates of Hell? I want to see that one.”

Berlin looked at him incredulously, unsure if Palermo was just fucking with him or not. “You mean the statue that’s in the museum you dragged me out of earlier today?”

“Oh,” Palermo smiled at him sheepishly. “Good thing we need to go back there anyway, right?”

For a few seconds, Berlin stayed quiet and took in the fragmentary sculpture in front of them. “Why can’t you appreciate what’s right in front of you? His first Gates of Hell is displayed in the gardens, we’ll get there later.”

Palermo gave a _hmph_ but copied Berlin’s action obediently and turned his attention to the sculpture in front of them. “That one’s broken. The head and arms are chopped off.”

“Rodin did it on purpose. He went through a classical phase, influenced by the Greek fragmented statues.”

“Are you sure he didn’t just accidentally drop it and made up some bullshit to cover it up?”

Berlin exhaled sharply, feeling himself starting to become irritated by Palermo’s sheer benightedness. “It makes the figure more expressive this way and leaves room for the viewer’s imagination. A missing body part doesn’t render the figure imperfect.”

He went to give Palermo a cold look and found another shit-eating grin plastered on Palermo’s face. “Well, no.” Palermo pointed between the statue’s leg, “as long as the most important parts are still there, I’m game.”

Realizing that Palermo was only teasing him at this point, Berlin saved himself another lecturing speech and moved on to the next piece.

“I like this one,” Palermo pointed with his left hand across from Berlin to a smaller winged statue fallen on its head.

Instead of taking in the statue, Berlin’s eyes flickered down to Palermo’s arm. He’d rolled up his sleeves and the silver watch was right in Berlin’s face, luring him to take advantage. It would be easy to remove the watch from Palermo’s wrist if they continued to stand this close to each other.

He stole another glance at Palermo who pretended to be engrossed in the statue, deliberately choosing not to move his arm away from Berlin’s face.

Berlin bit back a grin. The bet was going just as he’d thought it would be. Palermo wanted him to win. Maybe Berlin could get his revenge after all.

*

* * *

**Present**

“Stop the fucking car, Andrés!”

“Spending all that time in a monastery has taught me that I should let Jesus take the-”

“Godfuckingdammit.”

“If the car crashes it’s due to your blasphemy. Martín, you really ought to watch your words.”

He could feel Palermo's warm body pressed against his as Palermo took control of the wheel and tried straightening the car out while simultaneously groping for the light switch.

Once the head beams were illuminating the street again, Berlin finally let go of the gas pedal and pushed down hard on the breaks instead. A loud banging sound echoed through the car as they spiralled and hit the guarding rail.

In a matter of seconds, the passenger door was pushed open and Palermo’s body disappeared from Berlin’s view. Confused, Berlin took off his seat belt and followed Palermo out of the vehicle. Steam was coming from the hood of the car as he walked around it in search for Palermo.

Berlin found him kneeling on the pavement, retching loudly and spitting on the street. “I told you I was still fucking sick, son of a bitch!”

A chuckle escaped Berlin and he bent down next to him, resting his hand reassuringly on Palermo’s back. “You’re fine, don’t be so dramatic.”

Palermo shot him a look of absolute disbelief. “Forgive me, Andrés. Next time I’ll be less dramatic and opt for the _casual_ crashing of a car.”

“That’s why you’re my favorite student.” Berlin smiled at him cheekily and pulled Palermo back up on his feet.

Palermo looked paler than before and as soon as he was standing, he bent back down, resting his hands on his knees. Berlin almost felt bad at the sight.

Berlin gestured at the heavily steaming hood of the stolen car. “We should get going.”

“Where to, maestro?”

Berlin pointed past the wheat fields where the outline of a small shed could be seen in the faint moonlight. “We should be in walking distance of the city, but let’s stay in that shed over there until you’re feeling better.”

“How thoughtful,” Palermo muttered sourly and began walking with small, slow steps.

*

“I’m surprised the airbags didn’t go off. Remind me to pay the owner a visit when we get back. I mean, if you’re going to leave your car unattended on the street, at least make sure it’s _safe_ for us to steal. People are so inconsiderate these days,” Berlin ranted playfully and enjoyed the soft night breeze on his face as they fought their way through the last bit of wheat.

“I wish your brother had been in the car with us, I would’ve loved to see _his_ reaction.”

“I wouldn’t have done it if Sergio had been with us.”

He felt Palermo bump against him playfully. “What? You’re willing to risk my life but not his?”

Berlin casually wrapped his arm over Palermo’s shoulder as they neared the shed. “He wouldn’t have taken it as lightly as you had.”

“Sergio? But he’s always the life of the party!”

Berlin chuckled and resisted the urge to pull Palermo closer to his side. “Did I ever tell you the story of the first car I stole?”

“I don’t think so.”

“I hadn’t learned how to drive yet.”

“That’s a great start,” Berlin could feel the lifting of Palermo’s shoulders underneath his hand as he started laughing. The carefree sound immediately put Berlin at ease.

“Sergio had a chess tournament that he was late for and I needed to find a quick way to get him to the school. One of our neighbours happened to be bringing groceries into her house. She was an elderly lady, so I gave her a hand carrying them in. Once I got into the house, I snatched the keys right off the rack and Sergio and I jumped into the car.”

“How far did you get?”

“Well,” Berlin chuckled remembering that day clearly. “I couldn’t get the car to start so we rolled down the entire street, steadily picking up on speed. Somehow we managed to get onto the main road but ended up in the wrong lane. Next thing I know, Sergio starts panicking. He yanks on the wheel and stirs us right into a ditch.”

“Was that the day he swore to never drive with you again?”

“God no, he’s overexaggerating with that. It was just a small accident, completely harmless. The city we lived in hosted a go-kart race and my friend and I spent weeks building our kart. Of course, my friend got sick the day of the race so I needed a new partner. Sergio was out of the hospital for a bit and I hired him as the substitute. The kart wasn’t built for his sick, tiny body, so when I scraped by a big curve, I forgot to hold onto him and he slid right out of the go-kart and onto the tracks. Broke his arm in two different places.”

“Jesus,” Palermo’s tone was a mix of amusement and pity.

“He was more upset about having to go back to the hospital than anything else.”

Palermo chuckled and shook his head. “I was never that close with my sister.”

“No?”

They’d reached the shed and luckily found it unlocked. Once inside, they were surrounded by an array of agriculture equipment.

Immediately, Palermo sank down onto the ground and leaned against the door. The small space was absolutely cramped, leaving Berlin no other choice but to sit down right next to Palermo, their thighs and arms pressing into each other.

It was cold in the shed. The walk had kept Berlin’s blood flowing, but now that he was sitting on the cold stone he was glad to have Palermo’s warm body next to his.

“Fuck no, you couldn’t put us in the same room together without her crying. She’s a little fucking devil child. Every trick of manipulation I’ve learned from her.”

“At least you got something out of it,” Berlin gave him a weak smile before closing his eyes and resting his head against the wall. He regretted crashing the car now. Had they continued driving, Berlin would’ve had his coffee by now.

They were quiet for a little while, the sound of crickets was lulling Berlin into a peaceful sleep. After a while, he felt Palermo shift his weight away from his body, leaving Berlin’s right side cold.

“I’m sorry,” Palermo whispered, stirring Berlin from his half-asleep state.

“You don’t need to apologize again,” Berlin mumbled dismissively. They could talk about this in the morning, right now, Berlin just wanted to get a couple of hours of sleep in.

“I didn’t mean what I said back in the hotel yesterday.” Berlin’s heart started to pick up at that and he suddenly felt wide-awake and vastly interested in the conversation. He kept his eyes tightly shut and tried to keep his face natural as Palermo continued: “I’m glad you came back. I don’t think I like the person I’d become without you by my side.”

A faint smile fought its way up at Berlin’s lip at those words. “Me too,” he answered quietly and couldn’t help it if his body leaned back against Palermo’s side.

_It’s not impossible_. The words were grazing Berlin’s lips and he quickly darted his tongue over them to wash away the urge to say them aloud. Now wasn’t the time.

“You should rest up a bit so we can get going before sunrise,” Berlin told him gently.

Silence settled between them and Berlin’s heart returned back to its slow, steady rhythm. He was able to sneak a few seconds of sleep in before Palermo’s hushed voice filled the shed yet again.

“Andrés?”

“Hm?”

“Can I ask you something?”

Berlin sighed inwardly, his eyes feeling too heavy to open and look at Palermo. “Since when do you need permission?”

“I just… I’ve been wondering about this for a while now. Do you ever wish I wasn’t gay?”

Berlin hadn’t expected that question in the slightest. He opened his eyes and sat up, looking at Palermo who kept his own eyes tightly shut. “Why the fuck would you ever think that?”

“It’d be a lot easier if I just saw you as a friend, wouldn’t it? All that shit between us only happened because of my feelings for you.”

Berlin felt a pang of guilt. The only reason they’d been fighting was because he’d been too fucking scared to admit his own feelings to Palermo. Even now, Berlin couldn’t bring himself to.

“If I could change anything about you, it certainly wouldn’t be that. You’ve got far too many annoying tics that I’d prioritize changing first. Besides,” a dark smile spread over Berlin’s features. “Even if you weren’t gay, I’m sure you’d still fall for me every time.”

The graveness in Palermo’s face was gone. His eyes remained closed, but his lips stretched into a wide smile. “Oh yeah? What makes you so cocky?”

“Because I still fell for you.”

*

Berlin didn’t know what he’d expected to happen, but Palermo not saying anything and falling asleep on his shoulder definitely wasn’t the worst outcome. Unable to fall asleep himself after that conversation, he shook Palermo awake as the first rays of sunlight beamed through the cracks in the shed.

The walk into town was quiet, both of them still too groggy to speak. A cold wind blew against them and small drops of water periodically fell from the sky. Berlin wished he’d taken a change of clothes with him; his suit kept switching from feeling either too hot or too cold on his skin.

They reached the town square and walked along the cobbled street that was restricted to pedestrians only. Little shops and restaurants were located in rows on either side of them and Palermo took everything in with big, curious eyes. After a while, he nudged Berlin in the shoulder: “So where exactly are you taking me?”

Berlin pointed further into the distance where a large, white steaming volcano could be seen. “See that over there? That’s Mount Etna. In the outlying slopes grow grapevines that are planted in the ashes. It’s supposed to give them a distinct texture and flavour. A friend of mine heavily recommended me to try the local wine here.”

Palermo gave him a knowing side-way glance. “So, let me guess. We’re going to skip out on seeing the volcano up close and head straight to the winery?”

“I was thinking of doing the tour first, but if you insist we try the wine…” Berlin grinned at him, going along with the joke and led them into the first local bar they found.

*


	24. Chapter 24

**Past**

A rough push on his shoulders stirred Berlin awake from the nap he’d taken in the passenger seat. He rubbed his eyes, his brain taking a second to process just where the fuck he was. It was dark out, the rain had picked up again and the moon was shining weakly through the clouds. The farmhouse was only an ominous silhouette in the distance.

“Honey, we’re home,” Palermo’s voice was playful but his face looked stern as he pushed the driver’s door open and stepped out of the car, not bothering to wait up for Berlin as he ran up the driveway.

By the time Berlin had summoned the energy to get himself out of the car and inside the house, there was no sight of Palermo and the door to his room was shut.

Knowing he wouldn’t be able to sleep for a while since he had just taken a nap, Berlin went to sit on the sofa; the plans of the heist in one hand and a glass of wine in the other. Marseille was scheduled to come by early tomorrow morning so they could figure out the remaining logistics of the plan. There was still a lot to do before they could pull off the robbery and Berlin wanted to make sure he had at least the majority of it memorized by tomorrow.

Still, Berlin stared at the papers and the words began to swim in front of his eyes. Nothing stuck, only the wine bottle seemed to be getting emptier and emptier.

They’d wasted almost an entire together that could have been spent studying the floorplans and figuring out a foolproof strategy. Instead, Berlin had played cicerone for Palermo.

With a sigh, Berlin gave up trying to comprehend the papers and put them down on the couch cushion. A quick glance at his watch told him it was well past midnight. _Fuck_. Berlin already knew he would hate himself tomorrow morning if he didn’t go to bed soon. Another sigh and then the wine glass was emptied.

Berlin dragged himself up the stairs into his room. As he walked past Palermo’s room, Berlin remembered the promise he’d made earlier to take Palermo to the Eiffel Tower _first thin_ g tomorrow morning.

Tomorrow, Berlin concluded as he turned the light off in his room, tomorrow would be a long-ass fucking day.

*

Looking back, Berlin hadn’t been wrong about his predictions for the upcoming day. He rolled over in his bed with a groan, fumbling for his watch. Grasping nothing but air, Berlin suddenly felt wide awake. In a second, he was out of the bed and frantically looking for the watch.

“ _Fuck, fuck, fuck!”_ Berlin mumbled to himself in a frantic. His eyes scanned the nightstand, the desk, the chair, even the empty fireplace. With his pulse now pounding rapidly in his ears, Berlin pushed all the papers off the desk and went through the clothes thrown over the back of the chair.

A soft _clung_ made him exhale loudly in relief. Berlin crouched down on the floor, fingering between his vest and dress shirt, until he finally felt the cold metal of his watch.

“God fucking dammit,” Berlin cursed quietly at himself, carefully putting the watch on his left wrist and checking the time in the process. 8 am, they’d never get to the tower and back in time to meet Marseille. Why hadn’t Palermo woken him up?

The only plausible solution Berlin could come up with was that Palermo must have slept in himself.

As Berlin stepped out into the hallway, his hypothesis was proven right by the sound of the shower being turned on in one of the bathrooms.

The relief Berlin felt was washed away as quickly as it had come. He needed to take a shower as well. The hot water tank installed in the house was completely inadequate to supply more than one person, which was why Berlin always made sure to be the first one up in the morning. If Palermo was taken a hot shower -which Berlin was sure he was- it would outpace the hot water heater capacity and there would not be any warm water left for Berlin to use.

Berlin resisted the urge to go straight back into bed and pull the cover over his face. Today was shaping up to be a pretty great day indeed.

*

Berlin trotted down the stairs feeling more awake, clean, annoyed, and most of all, frozen. The shower he’d taken must have been the quickest one in his life as the ice-cold water practically screamed at him to get out. Even now, he could still feel more goosebumps forming on his skin as he tightened the bathrobe closer around his body.

He regretted not taking the time to dry his hair, get properly dressed, and put some shoes on. Cold droplets of water kept running down his forehead and the wooden floorboards felt dirty and uncomfortable on his bare feet. The soft cotton of the robe provided little comfort and didn’t satisfy the immediate warmth Berlin was craving. Only a fresh hot cup of coffee could help him with that now.

“Good morning, Martín.”

Palermo was sitting at the table, fully dressed and bent over looking at the papers Berlin had attempted to study the night prior. He ignored Berlin’s presence completely; his eyes glued to the plans.

“Did you change your mind about seeing the Eiffel Tower?” Berlin asked as he walked past him into the kitchen and started to prepare the coffee. “What’s the matter? Did you forget how to speak?”

“I’m trying to concentrate,” came the harsh answer.

Berlin had no idea what Palermo was so upset about and his aloof behaviour bothered Berlin. However, he decided against giving Palermo a provoking response and allowed the room to fall quiet again except for the soft hiss of the Moka pot.

By the time the coffee was ready and Berlin had eagerly started sipping on his cup, Palermo left the dining table and joined him in the kitchen, putting his own, empty mug into the sink.

“Marseille should be here in a bit,” Berlin provided, feeling much happier and chattier now that he had his coffee.

When Palermo started wordlessly walking past him, Berlin caught him by the sleeve and pulled him toward him. “Hey, I’m talking to you!”

Palermo narrowed his eyes but finally replied. “You lied about the bet.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

His jaw clenched, Palermo pulled his left sleeve up and held up his wrist, almost pushing the watch into Berlin’s face. “I gave you ample opportunities to take it yesterday and you did nothing. You’re not serious about this bet, Andrés. You were just fucking with me, weren’t you? I fucking knew it!”

Berlin grabbed his arm and moved it out of his face, his fingers lingering around Palermo’s wrist.

His voice calm, he tried to distract Palermo. “Martín, relax. There’s no reason to be upset. First of all, I’m still very set on winning the bet, I can assure you that, and secondly, I haven’t seen _you_ make any attempts at winning. So maybe we should focus on that, no?”

Palermo was breathing fast, his gaze kept flickering back and forth, searching for the truth in Berlin’s soft, brown eyes.

Berlin put up his left arm, showing his own watch to him. “Take it, I’m letting you win right now. The watch is all yours. You know how to take it off, don’t you?”

Palermo took a step forward but made no attempt to unfasten the straps of Berlin’s watch. The anger in him seemed to have evaporated and on his face were now only signs of dejection. Quietly, his voice merely a whisper, Palermo admitted: “We both know I had more to win by losing.”

“Oh, is that so?” Berlin murmured.

Still holding onto Palermo’s wrist, Berlin used his thumb to unfasten the buckle and quietly removed the watch off Palermo’s arm. “Well, in that case, I believe it’s time to celebrate.”

With a self-assured grin, Berlin held up Palermo’s watch in his right hand. “Did you really think I’d let you win, Martín? I don’t take well to losing, you should’ve picked up on that by now.”

Speechless, Palermo looked at him with wide eyes unable to decide what to make of the situation. His gaze travelled over Berlin’s features, taking in the wet hair, freshly cleaned face, and further down to the bare chest showing through Berlin’s robe.

If Berlin ignored the sudden tingling feeling in his stomach, everything was going exactly as planned. The corner of his lip shot up as he watched Palermo’s internal struggle so clearly displayed on his face. He just needed a little push to make the right decision.

He grabbed Palermo’s hand and firmly pushed the watch back into his palm, his fingers purposely grazing Palermo’s as he did so. “Don’t you have something you want to ask me?”

“I..-“ Berlin quirked an eyebrow, amused at watching Palermo fumbling for words. “You’re serious about this?”

“A bet’s a bet.”

“Andrés,” Palermo trailed off, meeting his eyes for the first time. In them, Berlin saw the naked hopefulness he’d been waiting for all this time. It was Berlin’s cue to deliver the final punchline.

“Of course it won’t mean anything. You’re not exactly my type, as you very well know by now.”

Instead of seeing Palermo’s face crumble like Berlin had anticipated, Palermo stood up straighter, his next words coming out bold. “Bullshit.”

And just like that, Berlin was pushed against the wall and his head was pulled toward Palermo’s. Their bodies pressed against each other as their mouths were crushed together. Berlin could taste the coffee on Palermo’s soft lips and tried to not dart his tongue out. It took a full second for Berlin to remember to pull away and chuckle.

“You don’t have a lot of experience in the dating world, do you? Usually dates end with a kiss, not start with one.”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy it.”

“I didn’t. And honestly, I’m sick of trying to prove it to you.”

Their eyes locked and Berlin was satisfied at seeing the sheer frustration in Palermo’s.

“You’ve never even tried yet,” Palermo argued defensively, playing with the collar of Berlin’s robe. “Getting one lousy blowjob doesn’t define anything.”

Berlin involuntarily licked his lips, his stomach somersaulting the picture that was forming in his mind. In a daring tone, he said: “Are you offering me a better one?”

Palermo let go of the collar and placed his hands on Berlin’s chest, letting them glide underneath the robe and exploring the bare skin presented to him there. His warm hands were eagerly welcomed by Berlin’s still cold and wet skin.

“Are you going to let me?” Palermo’s voice was raspy, his lips inches away from Berlin’s throat. His hot breath sent goosebumps down Berlin’s arms.

He tried to think his decision over rationally but found himself immediately nodding instead. “Don’t get your hopes up,” Berlin whispered warningly.

Having gotten consent, Palermo gently pressed his mouth against the side of Berlin’s neck. “I’ll get something else up.” He could feel Palermo’s lips moving against his skin as he husked the words.

In one swift movement, the knot of the robe’s belt was undone and Palermo’s teeth grazed down his bare chest, stopping to lick around his abdomen. As he sunk down onto his knees, Palermo’s hands wrapped around Berlin’s hipbones and pulled his legs apart. Palermo sucked long and hard on the inside of his thigh, not pulling away until little red dots began marking the area.

His lips darkened and wet with saliva, Palermo looked up to meet Berlin’s eyes. Berlin’s throat suddenly felt much too dry as he tried to remember that this was just another one of their games, that none of this could mean anything to him. He wasn’t about to fall for Palermo’s tricks again. This time, it would be Palermo suffering the consequences from each touch.

Despite this constant mantra running through Berlin’s head, his cock stiffened noticeably as Palermo’s palm pressed against the hot skin and his fingers tightly curled around the base.

_Fuck_. Berlin bit back a moan. Palermo’s thumb swept over the tip, wiping away the first drop of precum that had accumulated there. Berlin’s hips involuntarily pushed forward.

“You’re pretty hard for someone who doesn’t enjoy this,” Palermo pointed out before he spat in his hand and began stroking Berlin’s cock in a torturously slow manner.

Berlin sucked in his stomach, flexing all his muscles and biting his lip to stop himself from doing anything that would give away how badly he wanted this. It was just a game, he kept telling himself. If Berlin wasn’t the first to pull away, Palermo would beat him to it again.

“I was hard with Rafael too. Don’t let it get to your head.”

Determined to prove Berlin wrong, Palermo wrapped his lips around Berlin’s cock and sucked him down until his nose was buried deep in Berlin’s balls.

Berlin wasn’t prepared for this. A soft gasp escaped him and his hands automatically reached for Palermo’s hair, pulling at it forcefully to stop his hips from jerking forward.

Palermo’s lips wrapped tighter around his cock and moved back to the tip. He looked up and winked at Berlin, while his hand moved to his balls, squeezing them firmly as he started bopping his head, sucking Berlin all the way down then letting his tongue glide up until it swirled around the tip again.

The warmth and wetness around Berlin’s cock had never felt this good in his life and he could feel himself leaking steadily. His cock twitched painfully as Palermo’s tongue darted out to lick up another drop and enjoying the taste of it. There was nothing Berlin needed more in this moment than to completely empty himself inside Palermo’s mouth and watch him swallow every single drop.

Berlin hung his head, letting it rest against the wall and closed his eyes. He never wanted this to end. He fully focused on the sensation of the slide of Palermo’s tongue pressed tightly against his cock and the steady rhythm of Palermo’s lips wrapping around the base and then sucking upwards until his tongue dipped into the slit, wiping away any precum with the tip of his tongue.

A car engine stuttered somewhere in the distance and Berlin’s eyes snapped open, throwing him out of his reverie and back to reality. _It’s just a game._

With a quickly muttered _fuck_ he pushed Palermo off him and quickly tied the belt back around his robe. It took him a moment to recompose himself and ignore his painfully throbbing dick.

“Was that enough of a trial?” Berlin asked arrogantly and looked down at a confused Palermo, still on his knees in front of him.

The sound of a car door being shut echoed through the kitchen.

“Marseille,” Berlin said as an explanation when Palermo continued staring at him.

That seemed to get Palermo out of his perplexed state and he got back on his feet. His hands grabbed the collar of Berlin’s robe, straightening it as they stood chest to chest.

“You’re a fucking coward, you know that?”

*

“There’s another security camera right there,” Palermo said to Marseille, leaning over the table to point at the floor plans of the museum.

Berlin really should have put more effort and time into studying the plans last night. He barely had anything useful to say today.

“Andrés,” Berlin’s attention immediately snapped to Palermo’s still reddened lips as he called his name. “Was there anything in the other rooms you checked?”

Berlin pulled the paper toward him and studied the few rooms he’d checked alone yesterday while Palermo had gotten the car for them. “There’s a camera located in this corner and a security guard stood right there when I went in, but we shouldn’t have to worry about those rooms anyway if we stick to entering through the second window.”

“I’ve got the ladder and rope for it,” Marseille provided. “I’m just waiting on the tools to break the window.”

Berlin nodded, doing a quick walkthrough of the heist in his head. They would need a van to carry the equipment in and figure out their escape route through Paris. Berlin pulled the city map from underneath the mountain of papers and began to study the different streets and avenues around the museum.

Marseille pushed his chair back, looking at Berlin somewhat impatiently. “So are we good for now? I’ll let you know once I got the glasscutter.”

“What’s the big hurry, don’t you want to stay a little bit longer? We’ve barely had time to catch up, hermano. I can make coffee and you can tell us about your entire life story. I know how much you _love_ to talk,” Palermo gave Marseille a shit-eating smirk.

Marseille didn’t even blink as he got up and put on his coat. “There’s someone else I need to see today. Call me if anything changes about the plan.”

“He’s too quiet,” Palermo remarked once Marseille had shut the door behind him.

“Some people consider silence a virtue,” Berlin retorted dryly, unsure of what to do now that the two of them were alone. “You didn’t say much today either.”

“Didn’t have much to contribute. I got a bit distracted while studying the plans this morning.”

Berlin sighed audibly, not wanting to have this conversation in the slightest. He got up from the table and walked upstairs into his room. He needed to change out of the bathrobe anyway.

*

* * *

**Present**

Palermo sunk into the old, wooden chair by the bed with a grown. Drops of water continuously fell from his clothes, forming a small puddle on the floor. “Next time, we take the fucking jeep.”

“It’s just a little rain,” Berlin teased as a bright flash of lightning lit up the entire room. He used the opportunity to quickly scan his surroundings before everything fell dark again. A low, double bed took up most of the room, next to it the chair Palermo currently sat in, and on the other end was a tall nightstand. A large window was on the right wall and on the left, stood a vintage dresser.

“It’s a goddamn hurricane out there, Andrés!” Roaring thunder starting shaking the little house, almost drowning out Palermo’s words.

With slow, careful steps Berlin walked toward the dresser and started pulling the drawers open. He thoroughly patted the inside of every single one in hopes of finding something to dry off with.

“If I remember correctly, you were the one who insisted on hiking up the volcano. If we’d stuck with my plan, we’d still be warm and dry at the wine bar.”

“I didn’t think we’d get caught in a fucking storm midway.”

Berlin shrugged his shoulders before remembering Palermo couldn’t see him.

He regretted not bringing enough money with him to pay for an actual lodging and hoped the last few euros left in his pocket would be enough to cover the rest of their trip. The locals they’d met at the bar had talked of little else but the abandoned car found outside of town. As tempting as it was, it would be better for them to keep a low profile and not commit any more thefts during their stay. The house they’d found seemed to be abandoned, but still in decent shape.

Not finding anything, Berlin stepped away from the dresser and extended his arm until his hand made contact with the moist concrete wall. He used it to guide him out of the room and tried to locate the bathroom of the place.

After a few steps, he felt a dip in the wall and his fingers curled around a wooden frame. The door squeaked as he pushed it open and the floorboards creaked underneath Berlin’s weight. He could hear the wind howling through the house and felt a soft breeze entering through the exterior walls.

It was a small house consisting of only a kitchen, bathroom, and a bedroom. Berlin scoured through the bathroom cabinets in vain. The only things his hand grasped were dead bugs and spiderwebs. He turned on the tap for the sink to wash it off, but nothing happened. Both the electricity and water had been shut off.

Berlin left the bathroom and cautiously walked into the centre of the kitchen. It was too dark to see what he was stepping on and the last thing Berlin wanted was to trip over something or stumble into a potential hole in the floorboard. He steadied himself on what he assumed was a round, wobbly table, and tried to orientate himself.

Something hard and waxy touched his hand and Berlin patted the surface of the table until he found a box of matches and a pillar candle.

The first match broke in half and burned his thumb. Cursing, Berlin tried again, noticing the scarce amount of matches left in the box. The candle itself was almost completely burned down and the wick was short and stubborn.

Eventually, a small flame started to light up and Berlin was able to make out his surroundings. He scanned the kitchen briefly. Broken chairs were thrown into a corner, the cabinets were pulled open and hanging off the hinges. Another drawer was pulled completely off the wall and leaned against the counter. The tiles on the wall itself were few and dirty.

He took a quick look at the pile of trash on top of the counter and in the cabinets, finding mostly just rotten food and more spiderwebs.

Still wet and shivering, Berlin made his way back to the bedroom. With the candle illuminating the room now, Berlin did a more thorough scan. His eyes briefly skimmed over Palermo still sitting drenched in the chair, and moved to the mattress. It was supported by a rusty metal frame and had a dirty cover and a couple of mouldy pillows thrown on top of it. Spiderwebs were thick and glistering in every corner of the room and the tapestry on the walls was either faded or half-torn. On top of the wooden dresser, Berlin spotted a big, heavy brown blanket. _Bingo._

A thick layer of dust fell on Berlin as he pulled the blanket down. He tried not to sneeze as he smirked widely at Palermo. “There’s something romantic about being huddled up in a storm together, no?”

Palermo gave him a look of sheer disapproval. “Absolutely. Nothing gets me more in the mood than being trapped in a mouldy, rundown building. Can you put the candle on the bedstand? I want to get out of these wet fucking clothes without bumping against this piece of shit again.” Palermo got up and revengefully kicked the metal bed frame before he started unbuttoning his shirt.

Berlin did as asked, and while Palermo stripped down to his briefs, Berlin examined the blanket. It strongly smelled of must but otherwise, it seemed to be in good condition.

He threw the blanket over to Palermo. “Here, that should help keep you warm.”

Berlin’s clothes stuck to his skin and he decided to take them off as well. Palermo sat on the bed, the blanket wrapped tightly around his shoulders, while he watched Berlin fling their clothes over the back of the chair so they could dry overnight.

“You didn’t have to drag me out into a storm just to get the two of us to cuddle, you know.” Palermo teased with a sheepish grin and lifted the blanket up on one side, inviting Berlin to join.

Berlin, however, shook his head. His cheeks suddenly flaring up at Palermo’s proposal. “Keep it. I’m going to scour the rest of the house and see if I can find anything useful.” He picked up the candle again, silently blaming it for his reddened face, and left the room with hurried steps. They still hadn’t talked about the night prior and with the way their current situation was unfolding, Berlin was hoping it would stay this way.

Once he closed the door behind him in the bathroom, Berlin caught sight of himself in the cloudy mirror above the sink. The bruises on his cheek that Palermo had given him at the hotel were starting to turn purple. Other small cuts on his face were glistering red in the candlelight. His hair was wet, causing cold water to drip down his neck, and his skin looked pale against the dark circles underlining his eyes and short stubbles decorated his cheeks and jawline.

Berlin’s own reflection made him yawn. He tried not to think about the last time he’d slept. The prospect of having to pull another all-nighter tonight made him feel even more exhausted. Maybe he could just rest on the chair in the bedroom; it wouldn’t be the worst place he had ever slept on.

The idea of sharing a bed with Palermo seemed absurd to him. They had slept together on more occasions than Berlin could remember, and yet, something that used to be perfectly normal suddenly felt strange and discomfiting.

Berlin blinked heavily and tried to control his emotions. He was making a big deal out of this. The bed was big enough for both of them, they would share it out of practicality. It wouldn’t mean anything.

Berlin just needed to control himself and everything would be fine.

*


	25. Chapter 25

**Past**

“There’s your Eiffel Tower,” Berlin noted offhandedly as they drove on the Quai Branly.

“I guess that’s as close I get to see it for now,” Palermo said sourly, looking at the tower longingly. “Oh fuck! You were supposed to take that turn.”

Berlin’s grip on the steering wheel tightening but he bit his lip and stayed quiet, focusing instead on switching lanes during the lunch hour mayhem.

“It would’ve been more practical if we’d done this at nighttime like I suggested,” Berlin complained a little while later when they were stuck in yet another traffic jam.

Palermo looked up from the map to see the rows of cars in front of them. “We’ll figure out the main routes for now and then try them all out again tonight. I think the first one we did should be our fasted way out of the museum.”

Berlin nodded, letting the car roll forward a few inches. He watched Palermo close the map, folding it properly on the first try.

“So,” the change in pitch and light tone was enough to know where the conversation was headed. Berlin tried not to groan internally and turned his attention back to the road, copying the driver in front of him and moving the car yet another few inches forward. “What do you say we take a break from this and I take you out for lunch?”

Berlin wasn’t sure if he was more annoyed at the traffic or Palermo. Either way, he didn’t want to talk about this now. Berlin motioned at the cars around them. “By the time we get off this highway, it’ll be suppertime.”

“Then I’ll take you out for dinner.”

“No, I’m not going on that date with you. How much clearer do you need me to make it? It’s never going to fucking happen.”

Palermo raised a judging eyebrow, seemingly unimpressed by Berlin’s harshness. “Your moaning and hard dick this morning made it pretty fucking clear you like it. We already got to third base, querido, it’s only a matter of time before we score a home run,” he added with a wink.

Berlin exhaled sharply and moved the car another few inches up the road. This was just another part of Palermo’s game and Berlin was sick of playing it. It was obvious that Palermo had no intention of giving up anytime soon. Since the blowjob hadn’t discouraged him, Berlin had no idea how far Palermo was willing to take this.

“You know what makes a great artist? One who throws all he has into it, all his passion, love, frustration, and desire. In return, the art will take it all in and reflect it, turn it into something absolutely beautiful and stunning. It has to be shared, a mutual sacrifice. You can throw all you want at me, Martín. You can go down on your knees a hundred times for me, but those feelings, those desires you have in you, I can never return those.”

“But you liked it! Stop bullshitting me on this, I know you did.”

“I love indulging in all kinds of pleasure. Love, sex, physical attraction. It’s another form of art, and, as you know, I adore all art; I can’t help myself from wanting to explore it. But this between us? It’s impossible. You really should be thanking me for being this honest and patient about it with you. Pretending to be someone I can never become isn’t fair to you, Martín.”

“Because you care so much about right and wrong.”

“I have my ethics.”

Palermo stayed quiet and Berlin began drumming rhythmically on the steering wheel, softly humming a song. He’d tried rationalizing today’s events in his head and had done his best to explain it to Palermo. He’d enjoyed the blowjob but Berlin couldn’t picture himself ever giving one in return. He could see himself fucking Palermo and getting off on that too. But one thing Berlin purposely hadn’t told Palermo was that art -whether it be a painting, sex, or love- also required one to lower his defences. Naked, rare, vulnerability was what made something truly beautiful in Berlin’s eyes.

He couldn’t let his guard down around Palermo, not after everything that had happened. He still had his doubts if -for Palermo- this was all just a means of escaping boredom, or if he truly felt something for Berlin. For once, the number of uncertainties and red flags didn’t fuel Berlin to take a chance. He’d had his fun with Palermo. It just didn’t seem worth it to keep going anymore.

*

“Didn’t I tell you to stay away?” Berlin smirked, recognizing the young woman who seemed to be innocently walking by the museum. Berlin’s eyes travelled downward, taking in her grey cashmere sweater, faded denim jeans, and brown loafers. It was a windy afternoon and she’d thrown on a plaid, oversized blazer that fluttered in the breeze.

“Not you again, putain de bordel!”

She tried to walk away from him, but Berlin caught her wrist and dragged her toward the river.

“How about we go for a little walk? There’s something I want to show you. It’s a beautiful day for it, wouldn’t you say?”

It was a rhetorical question, but she still answered him by heavily stepping on his foot. “Dégage! Let go of me!”

“Tststs,” Berlin clucked his tongue tauntingly. “You’re quite vulgar for a mademoiselle. Maybe we should work on that next.”

“What do you want from me?” Her voice was venomous, but thankfully she still spoke quietly and they weren’t causing a scene right in front of the museum. Berlin had every intention of using it to his advantage.

He pulled her past the mass of people hovering at the Quai and took her down the stairs, closer to the water and overlooking the Pont du Carrousel. Once they were out of earshot and prying eyes, Berlin pinned the woman against the wall.

“Did you ever watch that movie about the fish that swims too far out of the reef and gets caught?”

“Le Monde de Nemo.”

Berlin nodded, noticing that the woman looked slightly less scared and more confused now. “He meets that other fish, the blue-one with amnesia. Do you remember that part of the film?”

She nodded her head and Berlin gave her a cruel smile.

“You’re not like that fish, are you?”

He felt her fingernails digging into his skin, trying to break free from his grip. Berlin only tightened his fingers around her wrist in response.

“Non, monsieur.”

“So you _do_ remember me telling you to stay off this area.”

She gave him a cold glance, still stubbornly trying to break free.

“Now, I know it’s a movie for children and bound to have a happy ending, but you know what happens in real life when fish like that get caught? Their heads get smashed in.” Berlin ran his hand softly through her hair. “All it takes is one simple blow to kill them.”

With only one of his hands holding her wrists now, she seized the opportunity and fought free by twisting Berlin’s wrist. It only took a second before Berlin pinned her petite body against the wall again.

They were standing closer now, almost chest to chest. Berlin smirked and looked down on her. “You can consider this your net.”

“Qu’est ce que tu veux? Fuck, I’ll do whatever you want just let me go!”

Berlin furrowed his brows comedically. “So you do have amnesia? I already told you what I want.”

Confident that he’d gotten his point across, Berlin let go of her wrists and immediately received a slap in the face.

“Connard!” Just as Berlin had thought, she didn’t flee the scene. Her brown eyes sparked daringly at him as she took another step toward him. “This is still my corner of the city. If you want me to go, I want something in return.”

Her words made him chuckle. “Why the fuck would I negotiate with you?”

Growing bolder, she took another step -sideways this time- forcing Berlin to step to the side as well. Still grinning, Berlin let her move him toward the wall until his back was resting against the cold cement.

“What do you want?” His voice stayed cool and demeaning. She hadn’t done anything that Berlin hadn’t expected her to do. At least not yet. Berlin hoped she would surprise him.

She acted as predicted, taking one last step forward. Berlin could feel her breasts pressed against his chest and her breath on his neck.

“I’ve watched you follow the guards at the museum. I want in on whatever the fuck it is you’re planning.”

Berlin grinned and put a finger on her lips, signalling her to say no more. He already had the perfect idea formed and ready to go.

“I suppose it would do you some good to learn from a professional. But then again,” he trailed off and made a point of looking down at the nonexistent space between their bodies. “How am I supposed to trust you? I can’t just let anyone I meet on the street be part of a heist, that’d be foolish. You don’t think of me as a fool, do you?”

She smiled coyly at him, her hands moving to play with the buttons of the green vest he was wearing. “I wouldn’t mind it if I got to know you better.”

He laughed quietly. “Oh, and what’s that going to cost me?”

“Half of the money.”

Berlin furrowed his eyebrows and looked at her with mocking disdain. “With your outstanding skillset and experience? You’d be lucky if I gave you anything at all.”

“Fine,” her tone was stubborn but her arms wrapped around the back of his neck in a soft, caressing manner. “Let’s get to know each other first then.”

*

* * *

**Present**

“Find anything?” Palermo looked up from where he was spread out on the bed. His eyes were black and glistering in the dim candlelight.

Berlin threw an open pack of Marlboro at him and put the candle back on top of the nightstand.

Eagerly, Palermo grabbed a cigarette out of the box. He placed it between his teeth as he bent over the candle to light it. “Fuck, that tastes stale,” came a grumble around a cloud full of smoke.

“Who knows how old it is.” Berlin lit himself one, grimacing as the bitter taste covered his tongue.

The house was terribly isolated; the floorboards were cold underneath his bare feet and the wind continuously howled through the cracks in the wall. Berlin hoped the cigarette would warm him up a bit, he was starting to get cold standing in nothing but his briefs. The prospect of sharing the blanket with Palermo was beginning to appeal to him more and more. _It would only be practical._ Berlin took a long whiff of his cigarette and dropped himself next to Palermo on the bed.

“A bunch of springs are broken on this side,” Palermo more complained than informed him. A promised squeak was heard and the mattress dipped significantly at Berlin’s added weight.

“As long as there’s no pea underneath, I’m sure you’ll sleep just fine.”

“I’m a queen, Andrés, not a princess. The rank comes with higher standards.”

Berlin took in Palermo’s ragged state. The heavy blanket was wrapped tightly around him so that only his head poked out. Half of his face was lit up by the candle and made his features seem haggard and hollow. His wet hair was glued to his forehead and a hint of light stubble showed on his face. Berlin’s eyes lingered on the chapped lips sucking on the cigarette.

“You know what I wouldn’t mind right now?” Palermo stole him a sideways glance and went to drape half of the blanket around Berlin’s shoulder. “Locro. I haven’t had that in forever.”

Berlin did his best to look attentive and raised a questioning eyebrow. His focus, however, was on keeping himself as rigid as possible as the left side of his body was pressed against the warmth of Palermo’s naked waist.

“Fuck, your skin is cold. It’s like this stew, I absolutely hated it as a kid.” Palermo’s eyes started to shine at the memory, “I don’t know why I’m craving it right now, but fuck, I’d kill to have some right now.”

Berlin stayed quiet, enjoying the weight of the blanket around his shoulders and the touch of Palermo’s soft skin against his own. The last few months had been rough, but tonight Berlin finally felt content and at home again. He gave up fighting his body and leaned into Palermo’s soft skin. His eyes felt heavy as he listened to the calming sound of heavy rain falling outside and the wind whistling through the house.

After a few seconds of silence between them, Palermo started sprawling across the mattress, taking most of the blanket with him. “Fuck, I’m exhausted. Next time I suggest a hike up a fucking volcano, put a bullet in my head. My legs are killing me.”

“Mine too,” Berlin admitted, kneading his sore thighs with the balm of his hand. “I could definitely use a massage right now.” He didn’t stop to think his words over and regretted them as soon as they’d spurted out of his mouth.

As if on cue, another bright flash of lightning lit up the room and illuminated the wide smirk that took up most of Palermo’s face. In an instant, he was sitting right next to Berlin again, his palm grasping Berlin’s naked thigh firmly. “All you had to do was ask, amor. These fingers work magic.”

Berlin swatted his hand away and ignored the fantasy forming in his head. “Get some rest. As soon as the storm’s over, we’re getting out of this dump.” With that, Berlin put his cigarette out and crawled around Palermo until he had enough room to lay down on his back.

As he let his head rest on one of the pillows, Berlin felt something moist and cold on his neck. With a groan, Berlin switched pillows, opting for the one Palermo hadn’t already gotten wet with his own hair.

The ceiling of the house was vaulted. Berlin’s body felt heavy, but his mind was still wide awake and overly aware of Palermo’s presence. Hoping to distract his thoughts until he fell asleep, Berlin started counting the wooden tiles that made up the ceiling.

With a loud metallic thud and a significant dip in the mattress, Palermo moved up on the bed until he was laying down next to Berlin on the other pillow. Out of the corner of his eye, Berlin could tell Palermo was looking at him.

The bed, now with two grown men laying on it, wasn’t as spacious as it had first appeared to be. Berlin felt Palermo’s breathing warm and steady against the side of his neck. The smell of cigarette smoke mixed with the burning candle felt heavy in the air but made the room feel more like their own, rather than just some random place they’d broken into.

“This probably wasn’t the ideal road trip you had in mind, huh?” Palermo said conversationally before taking another drag. His eyes squeezed shut in disgust at the taste and he extinguished the last bit before flicking it on the ground.

“What makes you think that?”

“Didn’t you say a friend of yours told you to come here? You could’ve gone with her and spent the day drinking wine. Instead, you’re stuck with me in this shithole.” Berlin turned his head and saw Palermo give him an unsure smile.

His expression made Berlin laugh. “Martín, what makes you think I prefer one over the other? If I didn’t want you here, I wouldn’t have brought you with me in the first place.”

“I guess,” Palermo lifted himself up again and punched the pillow a few times until a cloud of dust danced above them in the air.

Another flash of lightning struck; this one seeming much closer to them than the previous ones. They both turned their heads to look through the window.

“Che, what’s that over there?” Palermo got off the bed and Berlin felt a significant shift in the mattress at the loss of Palermo’s weight. He watched Palermo stride over to the window where he crouched down and picked something off the floor.

“For Ines,” Palermo read out loud the cursive handwriting on the small, brown envelope. He opened it and pulled out a stack of old photographs. “You think she lived here?”

“Let me see.”

Palermo walked back over to the bed and handed Berlin the photos before laying down next to him.

Berlin studied the photographs with interest. He was so absorbed in them that he almost forgot about Palermo’s presence. Palermo’s arm was draped over Berlin’s chest, his face barely an inch away from his own as they looked through the photographs together.

They were all in black and white, some of them so old they had started to fade. Most of them featured a woman with long, curly hair, a charming smile, and a set of large, dark eyes. Some pictures were just of her: a school picture, a cutout picture of a passport, a professional portrait. In others, she was holding a baby, or a toddler was sitting in her lap. In one picture, she stood hand-in-hand with a young girl.

“That must’ve been her husband,” Palermo noted, his breath ghosting over the skin on Berlin’s neck.

Berlin took a closer look at the picture currently at the front of the stack. It was a wedding picture. The woman was dressed in white this time, a small veil covering most of her face. Next to her stood a man with short hair, thick furrowed eyebrows, a straight nose, a neatly-trimmed mustache, and long, thin lips. There was a glimmer in his eyes that made him seem more handsome and gentle than his otherwise serious features suggested.

The next few photos were more portraits featuring the couple and the rest of the family. The very last picture was of the woman, her husband, their children, and what Berlin’s assumed were their grandchildren.

Berlin shuffled through the photos again and pulled out the one where the woman was just a young adolescent dressed in a school uniform. He put the picture in one hand and compared it with the last one they’d looked at.

“It took us as little as a dozen photographs to follow her entire journey through life,” Berlin stated, comparing the wrinkles and light hair with the smooth skin and vigorousness.

“Sucks to leave nothing behind but this rundown house and a few photographs.”

Berlin’s hand shook a little as he put the photographs back into the envelope and pushed himself up on one elbow, reaching over Palermo to set the envelope on the nightstand.

“What would you want to leave behind?” Berlin asked and turned to Palermo with a soft and serious expression on his face.

“I’ve never really thought about it, to be honest. There’s a lot more I want to live through than leave behind.” Berlin gave him a look that beckoned an elaboration.

“Say, for example, we pulled that heist. There’d be stories about us, legacies created, which is what you want, Andrés, no? I know you do. But for me,” Palermo looked around the room in thought before he found Berlin’s eyes again. “There are days where I just don’t give a fuck what the world thinks about me and if they want to burn me down to ashes and never utter my name again then so fucking be it. I’ll be dead anyway, so what do I care, right? I just- I don’t want to just have a handful of pictures summoning up my life. I want a full-ass movie reel that takes you from one adventure to the next. Whether someone else gets to see the movie other than myself won’t make much of a difference to me when I look back on my life.”

Berlin pondered his words over, then his heart started beating faster and he stole a quick glance at Palermo. “So what is it that you want to see happening in this movie?”

*


	26. Chapter 26

**Past**

“ _Les Fleurs du Mal,_ “ Berlin read the title out loud as he put his pants back on.

Alice gave him a puzzled look before her eyes caught the book laying on the floor. “It’s my roommate’s.”

He bent down to pick it up, flipping it open to a random page and reading the first few lines. “Dis-moi, ton cœur parfois s’envole-t-il, Agathe / Loin du noir océan de l’immonde cité / Vers un autre océan où la splendeur éclate.”

Alice smiled at him. She put her arms over her head and lazily stretched on the bed like a cat bathing in the sun. “It sounds funny with your accent.”

Berlin shot her a comically offended look and threw the book next to her on the bed. As he put on his vest, he realized annoyed that a button was missing. With an exaggerated sigh, Berlin opted to just wear his bland dress shirt. He looked at the vest with a sorrowful look, almost regretting fucking Alice.

A quick glance out the window told him it was late in the evening and a subsequent glance at his watch informed Berlin that he was late for his meet-up with Palermo. They still had to finish driving the escape routes tonight. Berlin had no doubt that Palermo would spend the entire night complaining about his tardiness- he could already hear the words Palermo’s would say to him in his head.

Berlin’s eyes fell back on Alice, her naked body spread out on top of the sheets, watching his every move carefully. His fingers moved back to the button of his dress shirt, slowly undoing them one-by-one. He noticed Alice raise her eyebrow and spread her legs slightly at his motion.

There was nothing special about her. He had found no striking features nor noteworthy qualities in her manner. A perfectly ordinary pair of brown eyes and red lips, long hair and soft skin, boobs and trimmed pussy, were all waiting for him. It was simple, really.

No games, no doubts, no second-guessing. Of course, there was no trust between them, but right in this moment, in which Berlin walked back to the bed and pinned her down underneath him, they came to a mutual understanding.

Alice lifted herself up to unzip his pants and pulled them down along with his briefs. Her hand was cold as she wrapped it around his cock and Berlin couldn’t help but relax when her warm lips joined her fingers around the tip and she sucked him into her mouth.

He let himself enjoy it. Her blowjob wasn’t nearly as good as the one Palermo had given him this morning, but at least Berlin’s mind was perfectly lax and at ease this time. It was nice to get sucked off by someone without having to worry about their ulterior motives.

His fingers fumbled for another condom on the nightstand while, with his other hand, he pushed Alice onto her stomach.

“Hurry up,” she moaned, her fingers already on her clit, playing with herself while Berlin ripped the package apart and put on the rubber.

Berlin pulled her up until she was bent over on all fours in front of him. In one fluid movement, he slid his dick inside her wet pussy. _The convenience of a woman_. No lube or prepping needed. Berlin’s hand darted to her tits, massaging her nipple until a hushed gasp escaped her.

His left hand rested on her ass, clasping the soft flesh tightly. The sleeve on his dress shirt had ridden up and Berlin’s watch was fully exposed. He briefly wondered if Palermo was still waiting for him at the farmhouse or if he was here with him in Paris, driving alone through the dark streets of the city.

“Faster!” Alice shrieked.

Berlin only smiled and slowed down, his eyes fastened to the little hands continuously moving on his watch.

*

Berlin returned to the farmhouse at dawn. He had to walk a little bit since the car he’d stolen needed to be disposed of in a location that couldn’t be traced back to the farmhouse.

It was a cool morning. The sudden wave of heat that welcomed Berlin as he stepped inside the house felt uncomfortable on his skin. He needed a shower, his clothes felt sticky and dirty on him and not to mention the missing button on his vest that was begging him to change into a new outfit.

At first, Berlin didn’t recognize the figure laying on one of the couches. He was already halfway up the stairs when his instincts kicked in and he twisted his head to look at the sleeping form below him.

Half of Palermo’s face was pressed against the arm of the sofa and his lips were slightly parted. Berlin took a few seconds just to watch his chest softly rise and fall in his sleeping state, depicting Palermo as more innocent than he deserved to be.

Slowly, the memory of ditching Palermo last night came back to Berlin. He’d forgotten about it in the last few hours he’d spent with Alice. Berlin ignored the feeling that began stirring in his stomach and pushed the unwanted thoughts away before the feeling could spread to his throat.

He needed a shower to straighten out his thoughts and not think about why Palermo hadn’t made it into his own bed. Berlin began walking up the stairs again but made an effort to keep his steps soft and quiet. After all, he wasn’t a complete asshole.

*

Palermo was still vast asleep when Berlin descended the stairs showered, fully dressed, and in desperate need of coffee.

Once in the kitchen, the first thing Berlin noticed was _his_ wine bottles standing empty on the counter. The hint of pity he might have felt for Palermo was gone immediately at the sight and Berlin didn’t bother to keep quiet anymore as he prepared his coffee.

A few minutes after he’d sat down at the table and started sipping on his coffee, Berlin heard Palermo twisting on the couch and his head popped over the back. He blinked heavily at Berlin and a soft smile appeared on Berlin’s lips.

“Good morning, mi marido,” he said brightly to which Palermo gave him a confused and disgruntled look. His head hid back behind the sofa and Berlin could hear him dropping himself down onto the cushions.

“Marido? I think I’m starting to understand why all these women keep divorcing you. You could’ve at least fucking let me know you were bailing on me!”

“Martín, Martín,” Berlin said calmly, with just the slightest hint of a mock. “I had every intention of joining you last night. My earlier commitments just ran a little bit over schedule.”

Palermo stood up and started walking toward the table. His hair was just as dishevelled as his clothes and Berlin watched, with curled lips, Palermo doing shoulder circles with a pained expression. The couch was not made to be slept on, Berlin could have told him that from his own first-hand experience.

“What the fuck did you do that was so important?”

Berlin’s smile widened. “I ran into the most wonderful woman. I can’t wait for you to meet her.”

“Are you serious? I spent all night driving through the goddamn city by myself while you fucked some woman!”

“Don’t be jealous, Martín. She imposes no threat to you. She and I aren’t at that stage yet where we can drink each other’s wines without asking first.”

Palermo didn’t show a hint of embarrassment. “I would’ve asked, but you weren’t there.”

He went to sit down across from Berlin and pulled Berlin’s cup of coffee toward him. “You don’t mind, no?” Palermo smirked. He had sleep stuck in the corner of his eye that Berlin couldn’t look away from. The green in his eyes was almost transparent in the morning light.

Berlin pushed his chair out and went to get up. “What’s mine is yours.”

“And now I get why all these women keep marrying you,” Palermo grinned after taking a sip. “You do come with a few perks.”

“Flattered.” Berlin could think of a million better topics to discuss than his failed marriages. “Did you manage to figure out the escape route?”

“Oui, monsieur, and unlike yours, mine doesn’t involve any cul-de-sacs.” Palermo wiggled his eyebrows suggestively to which Berlin walked back into the kitchen to brew himself another cup.

“I found us a decoy,” Berlin said loudly as he turned the stove on.

At those words, he heard the chair move and Palermo’s slow steps following him. “Oh yeah?”

Berlin turned around to see Palermo lazily leaning against the same patch on the wall where he’d blown Berlin yesterday morning. His smirk as he took another sip of Berlin’s coffee made Berlin’s skin tingle with memories. There was zero doubt in his mind that Palermo was leaning against that spot on purpose.

“Alice will rob a store as we go in. It’ll drive the police away and win us some time.”

Palermo made a cluck with his tongue. “Alice, huh? Does she know you’re just using her as a distraction?”

Berlin turned the stove off and poured the coffee into a clean cup. He’d thought about telling her, they’d bonded quite well last night. “Not yet. I’ll have to help her plan the robbery. If she’s smart, she’ll figure it out herself.”

He felt an arm draped around his shoulder. “And if you’re smart, you’ll figure out that’s not what I was referring to, hermano.”

It took Berlin a good second to mentally go back on their conversation and catch Palermo’s reference. “Did it ever occur to you that I might be using _you_ as a distraction?”

“Indeed, it did,” Palermo's smile didn’t falter and he raised his coffee mug toward Berlin. “Here’s to never growing bored of each other.”

Against his better judgement, Berlin clinked his mug with Palermo’s. “For better or for worse,” he added grumpily.

“You’ve had enough opportunities to memorize that speech, eh.” Palermo snickered, to which Berlin forcefully pushed him off him, making Palermo spill his entire coffee on the floor tiles.

“I think you’re supposed to break the glass, not spill it,” Berlin noted dryly.

Palermo simply shrugged his shoulders.

*

* * *

**Present**

Palermo stayed quiet for a while, debating his answer to Berlin’s question over with careful thought. Finally, Palermo raised his eyes to look at him: “Did you really mean what you said last night?”

Berlin hesitated and quickly looked away. He started fidgeting with the loose threads of the blanket as his mind raced through every possible answer he could give him. He wanted to confess his feelings to Palermo right now. Palermo’s warm, naked skin burned through Berlin and there wasn’t a second where the thought of fucking Palermo on this bed left his mind.

“I was hoping you’d forgotten about it.”

“I wish I had,” Palermo admitted, his words laced thick with frustration. “Why can’t you just make up your fucking mind, Andrés? You kiss me and say you feel nothing. You leave me after confessing you love me. You run after me just to reject me. And now this. I don’t get it. I don’t get _you._ I wish I had the strength to stay away from you for good, but there’s no winning in this for me, is there? I’m either there filled with jealousy watching you get married from one girl to the next or I’m alone filled with nothing at all.”

Berlin didn’t want to hear it. His eyes were fixed to the ceiling, his body turned rigid, his thoughts stirred as far away from this conversation as possible.

“Andrés,” Palermo started but Berlin wouldn’t meet his eyes. With a sigh, Palermo grabbed him by the shoulders and twisted Berlin until they were facing each other. A loud bang of thunder echoed through the house.

His hands felt cold and clammy and seemed to anchor him to this moment. Palermo’s eyes caught his, and everything around Berlin began to disappear. He forgot about the discomfort of the bed or the scratchiness of the blanket wrapped around them. Berlin’s own exhaustion evaporated with everything else in the room. Everything but he and Palermo.

Every coherent thought was lost in Berlin’s mind, his body moved on nothing but impulse. Before he knew it, Berlin was on top of him, supporting himself on his elbows, his face hovering inches over Palermo’s.

He didn’t understand why his heart suddenly began beating rapidly, why adrenaline shot through his body and made it hard to breathe. By the time Berlin finally realized what he’d done, his tongue was swiping over Palermo’s just as his entire body rolled against his.

He felt Palermo’s hands on his shoulder blades, pushing Berlin off his elbows until their chests crushed together. Palermo exhaled sharply on the impact, filling Berlin’s mouth with hot air. His hip bones dug into Berlin’s abdomen and Berlin’s knees crashed into the mattress, against the hard metal of broken springs.

The rate of Berlin’s own heart started to ring in his ears until it filled up the room and drowned out everything around them. There was no sound of steady rain nor wind, another flash of lightning lit up the room with silent thunder.

Palermo pulled away and looked at him startled. “Did you feel something this time?”

Berlin stared back at him in panic. His throat was layered with sandpaper and his lips had turned numb. Palermo’s breathing was sharp and rapid, his pupils blown, waiting for Berlin to answer.

Berlin tried to think of something to say but his mind couldn’t keep up with what was happening. He felt his head moving up and down and his lips whispering _yes_ through ragged breaths. He wanted to say more, but Palermo grabbed both sides of his jaw and pulled him down until their lips met. A soft warmth spread through Berlin and he let himself melt into the kiss.

“Son of a bitch, what took you so long?” Palermo’s murmur was low and husky and went straight to Berlin’s dick.

Palermo pushed Berlin off him to the side so that Berlin was back on his side of the bed. Confusion crossed Berlin’s face briefly, but then Palermo kneed down between his legs and pulled Berlin’s briefs down.

His lips wrapped around Berlin’s dick and took all of him in. His head bopped back and forth as his tongue swirled and licked around every inch of his cock.

“Fuck, I’ve missed this,” Berlin moaned. He hadn’t meant to say it out loud but his brain still wasn’t functioning well.

With a soft _pop_ , Palermo pulled his mouth off and grinned at him with wet, swollen lips. “I’ve only blown you that one time.”

“Yeah and I loved it.”

Palermo got off his knees and spread out on top of him, shaking his head but still smiling non-stop. He gave Berlin a quick peck on the lips before his face suddenly turned serious. “Are you sure about this? Because if this is just some fucking game or something, I swear on my life, I’ll-.”

Berlin kissed him in response.

Slowly, his brain started working again and a blush started creeping up Berlin’s cheeks. He pulled away from Palermo and slightly prepped himself up the wall.

Palermo got up as well, but only to grab the blanket off the floor. Berlin hadn’t even noticed it missing. Once the blanket was thrown over their bodies, Palermo laid his head against Berlin’s chest and stared out the window.

Berlin chose to ignore his aching cock and let his fingers play with Palermo’s hair instead.

Palermo’s face was turned to the side, his eyes stuck to the window, watching another bolt of lightning strike up in the sky. After a while in which both of them didn’t move, Palermo asked in a quiet voice: “Having second thoughts?”

“No, it’s not that,” Berlin quickly assured him but didn’t know where to go from there. His thoughts were everywhere and nowhere at all. All his brain could supply him with were orders to never let go of Palermo. He liked the warmth and heaviness of his body and the softness of Palermo’s hair between his fingers. He could feel Palermo’s heart beating against his stomach and his breath falling quietly on his shoulder. Berlin didn’t want this moment to end and found himself scared to speak.

“Then what is it?” Palermo asked, his voice carrying as much confusion as Berlin felt. “If you don’t want to do it without condoms, I’ll go and get some right now. I don’t care how far I have to run, I want you inside of me.”

The blood stopped circling toward his brain at those words and returned straight to Berlin’s dick again. His hips jerked up involuntarily, creating just the tiniest bit of friction.

“I thought you said you were on the pill,” Berlin joked, feigning self-assurance, and earned himself a kick in the shin.

Palermo twisted his head, digging his jaw into Berlin’s chest to look at him. “Are you scared?”

Berlin wanted to make another joke but found a mixture of graveness and concern in Palermo’s eyes.

“Remember what I said to you at the monastery?”

Palermo groaned, “Don’t give me that mitochondria bullshit again, I can’t believe I actually believed that for a second.” Demonstratively, he pulled up his pelvic and started grinding against him. Berlin's dick ached impossibly more. He wanted to rip Palermo’s briefs off and have his stiff cock rubbing against his.

“I meant afterwards. When I said I loved you.”

“What about it?”

“I meant it.”

Palermo’s lips were on his neck, trailing kissing down to his collarbone. Berlin clasped his hands around Palermo’s naked back as he tried not to moan.

“I love you too,” Palermo smirked at him. “Is that what you were trying to get at?”

Again, Berlin shook his head. After a while, he said quietly: “The biggest risk to any heist is personal involvement. If there was a way for me to keep you on the heist I would’ve done it. I fought Sergio on it for days, but he’s right. I can’t guarantee your safety, Martín. I’m going to lead the entire operation inside, I can’t shift my entire focus if something happens to you. I can’t just blow up the entire building to get you out of there alive.”

“No one’s asking you to! I can take of myself, Andrés. I swear I won’t let myself get hurt.”

It took all of his strength to keep Berlin’s voice calm and even-toned: “The only way to guarantee that is by keeping you out.”

Palermo stayed quiet. Berlin could tell he was angry. If at him, Berlin didn’t know, but Palermo kept his head against his chest and didn’t push Berlin away when he wrapped his arms tighter around him.

Eventually, Palermo’s breathing evened out. The soft rising and falling of his chest felt so peaceful, Berlin tried to match his own breathing to it. For a while, they just did that, and Berlin’s eyes began to feel heavy.

“It stopped raining,” Palermo noted, breaking the silence between them and calling Berlin back to consciousness.

“You have a sixth sense of knowing when I’m just about to fall asleep.”

“Sorry,” Berlin felt Palermo’s mouth twitch into a smile. “Go back to sleep, cariño.”

“What about you?”

Palermo ignored his question and Berlin didn’t know what else to say. He lifted Palermo up a bit so Berlin could lay down again, his head resting on the scrunched up pillow. He straightened out the blanket and pulled it over Palermo’s shoulders, almost up to his neck. Palermo rolled off him to lay on the other pillow, almost taken the entire blanket with him.

“The heist isn’t in a few years, don’t worry about it for now,” Berlin muttered and pulled half the blanket back over to his side.

“Then why did you bring it up?” Palermo snapped.

“It’s what I should’ve told you to begin with.”

Silence. Berlin kept his hand on Palermo’s back and waited until his body relaxed and his breathing evened. Softly, sounding almost self-defeatedly, Palermo admitted: “It wouldn’t have made me leave. You did what you had to do.”

“Well look at what happened!”

Palermo rolled over to face him, his eyes wide. “You mean this?”

“No, fuck. The drugs.”

“That wasn’t your fault. No one made me take them. Not even you have that power on me, Andrés.” Palermo turned back over, away from Berlin, and pressed his back against Berlin’s body. As if they’d done this a million times, Berlin wrapped his arm around him and nuzzled his head into the nape of Palermo’s neck. “Besides, it brought us together, didn’t it? If I got to do it all over again I would.”

Berlin’s grip around him tightened. “You shouldn’t think like that.”

“Then give me something else to think about.” Palermo leaned back further into him and pressed his ass even tighter against Berlin’s cock.

Berlin could tell he was trying to lighten the mood between the two of them. He let his hand glide down Palermo’s chest, down his abdomen, until his fingers brushed against the cotton fabric of his underwear. “Let’s start by taking this off.”

“No, the candle’s about to burn out.”

“And?”

“You’ve never seen me naked before and I want the full effect.”

Berlin buried his face deeper into Palermo’s neck to suppress a chuckle. He let his fingers slide below the waistband and card through the short pubes he found there. His finger stroked teasingly against the tip of Palermo’s dick and Berlin grinned.

“Don’t you dare move your hand any lower!”

“But the candle is still burning,” Berlin said with faux innocence. He started kissing Palermo’s neck and slowly made his way down his shoulders, to his back, until the blanket was thrown off completely and Berlin was planting kissing around the waistband.

His finger was still playing with the tip of Palermo’s dick and he could feel the precum starting to leak.

“Are you sure I can’t change your mind?” Berlin mumbled, purposely making his voice raspy and low.

“Yes, I’ve thought about this way too much to have it happen in the dark on a shitty ass mattress.”

“Then tell me,” Berlin stopped kissing him and lifted the waistband between his teeth, slowly pulling the back of Palermo’s briefs down as Berlin moved himself lower on the mattress. “How is this supposed to happen? Since you’ve given it so much thought and all.”

“As if I’d tell you! You’re the one who’s ruining all the hopes and dreams I had for it.”

Berlin laughed quietly, making sure his breath landed right on Palermo’s hole. Come to think of it, he’d never seen Palermo’s bare ass either. Berlin took a moment to appreciate the round and firm flesh on display for him. His cock made an appreciating twitch at the sight.

“Is that a yes?”

“It’s a maybe.”

“What if I just put in a finger?”

He felt Palermo shift his hips up to meet the tip of his finger. “Fine.”

Smiling to himself, Berlin pulled his hand out of the briefs and stuck his finger inside Palermo’s mouth instead. Coming up close to Palermo’s ear, he murmured: “I wasn’t talking about touching your cock.”

At that, Palermo started sucking on his finger eagerly and Berlin’s dick grew rock hard at the sensation. Unable to control himself any longer, Berlin pulled out his lubed up finger and moved it down Palermo’s ass, circling around his hole, teasingly slow. He could hear Palermo’s breath hitch and feel his ass clenching around his wet finger.

“Andrés, you can do whatever the fuck you want to me, just put that fucking finger inside me now.”

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one chapter left! Thank you so much for reading ❤️


	27. Chapter 27

**Past**

“Quick, hand me the rope!” Palermo hissed as soon as they reached the rooftop.

Berlin knelt down and dug through the backpack in a hurry, taking everything out they’d need upon entering the building. Rope, masks, guns, flashlights. Was there anything else he was missing?

He tried to recover his breathing as he watched Palermo belay the rope securely around a roof cap. They’d gone over the plan a million times but Berlin never considered including physical exercise in their preparations. He could hear Palermo breathing heavily and briefly wondered if they should’ve taken more time climbing up all those fucking stairs on the ladder.

The wind blew strongly against his face and Berlin was glad for the layer of protection the ski mask provided him. He took a second to look down onto the dark, empty street below them. They’d been up on the roof for less than a minute and Marseille had already taken the ladder off the wall and driven off with the van. There wasn’t any time to lose.

Berlin went down first, his grip steady around the rope and his feet soundless as he slowly pushed himself lower to the second floor. They’d visited the museum just before closing and a soft smile spread Berlin’s lips as he found the window still unlocked. With ease, he pulled it open wide enough to climb through and stood in the exhibition room seconds later.

Palermo was quick to follow behind him and walked straight to the door leading outside the exhibition into a wide hallway. The security guards weren’t supposed to check this room anytime soon, but Berlin didn’t want to leave anything to chance. If they did cross paths, Palermo would be right there to catch them.

As Palermo pulled out his pistol, Berlin turned the flashlight on and put it between his teeth. The painting was displayed on the wall closest to the door. Without hesitating, he walked over and took the canvas off the wall.

The first time Berlin had seen the Diogenes painting was in an art book many years ago. He remembered it as a minimized picture at the top of the page among other shots of Gérôme paintings. When the idea to steal the painting had struck him this summer, he had foolishly thought it would be an easy heist to pull off. Berlin hadn’t given the actual size of the portrait any thought until he’d stood right in front of it.

A 30x40 inch, 150-year-old oil painting was held in his hands now. Berlin carefully flipped it over and pulled two screwdrivers, a plier, and a blade out of his backpack. In a meticulous, steady manner, he began to remove the staples off the canvas, careful not to rip anything.

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps began to echo through the halls. Berlin’s ears perked up. He could feel the adrenaline rushing through his entire body as he stole a quick glance to Palermo, who was leaning quietly against the wall, his body tense, the pistol resting confidently on the side of his shoulder. He caught Berlin looking at him and winked playfully.

Voices were heard. Two men were talking. Berlin recognized the voices belonging to the security guards on duty tonight.

His heartbeat picked up, pounding steady and heavy against his chest. He tightened his grip around the screwdriver, hoping he’d just imagine the slight shake in his hand. His hands were moving on automatic, steadily removing one staple after the other, starting from the outside and gradually moving closer to the centre until the first corner of the canvas was freed from the sketcher bars.

Sirens began to howl through the open window. Alice was finally proving herself to be useful.

“Je me demande ce qu'il se pase.”

“On dirait qu'ils vont sauver le monde.”

A chuckle.

“Peut-être pouvons-nous voir quelque chose par la fenêtre.”

More footsteps echoed past the door and became quieter as the guards’ voices turned into a faint murmur in the distance.

Without warning, someone grabbed him by the shoulder. Berlin whipped his head around, the flashlight almost falling out of his mouth in the progress. He took it out and put it in his hand, pointing the flare at the silhouette next to him.

A string of curses ran through his head as he watched Palermo kneel down beside him and pick up a screwdriver.

“Allez, allez, monsieur,” Palermo whispered with a cool smirk and began taking out one of the staples. They’d never discussed Palermo helping him with this. He was supposed to watch the door.

Berlin suppressed his anger and quietly continued working. Removing the canvas was taking much longer than anticipated and they needed to hurry before the guards returned.

*

A wide smile spread over Berlin’s face as he watched the traffic light switch to green. Marseille turned the van into a new street just as a few drops of rain softly fell against the windshield. Berlin pulled the mask off his face and wiped the sweat off his forehead with his right sleeve. His left hand securely held the black, plastic tube where the painting was carefully stored in.

They drove through the side streets of Paris in absolute silence. Berlin hadn’t expected laconic Marseille to say much, but they _had_ just pulled off a successful heist together, it wouldn’t kill Marseille to at least ask how it had gone inside the museum. Then again, even Palermo was keeping quiet in the backseat. Berlin stole a shy glance in the rearview mirror and saw him staring out the window, sulking like he’d been doing for the past few days.

Outside, the sirens were starting up again and a firetruck, ambulance, and two police cars rushed past them.

“Did you drive by the boutique at all?” Berlin asked Marseille and looked out the passenger side’s window, half expecting to find Alice’s petite frame waiting for them on the empty sidewalks.

“I did, but she wasn’t there.”

“Did you even tell her to wait for him to pick her up?” Palermo asked apathetically as if he couldn’t bother to hear Berlin’s answer.

“Of course I did!”

“Oh,” Palermo sighed loudly and rolled his eyes. “You spent so little time with her, I just wanted to make sure.”

His voice was dripping with sarcasm and Berlin felt his own blood starting to boil with anger. He twisted around in the car seat, ready to snap at Palermo when Marseille spoke up again: “She might be waiting for us at the car switch.”

Berlin nodded, still twisted in his seat, his eyes meeting Palermo’s who stared at him furiously.

“Goddammit, Andrés! If she’s not showing up she probably ran off with the money. An idiot could’ve done her part, there’s no way she screwed it up. And even then, you went through every possible fucking scenario with her anyway, so I’m sure she’s managing just fine right now.”

Berlin waited patiently for him to stop yelling. He was glad Palermo had finally snapped and wasn’t quietly sulking about Alice’s involvement in their plan anymore. Even if Palermo heavily disapproved of it, Berlin didn’t regret giving her a little side role in the robbery. If it hadn’t been for Alice, the security guards might have walked in on them tonight.

For the last couple of weeks, Berlin had gone over a simple heist with Alice. She would rob a small shop that would serve as a distraction from the real heist happening simultaneously at the museum. Berlin thought her part gave the plan a little bit more flair and security. Plus, spending time with Alice -a woman he was fucking on a regular basis- had been very much needed to forget the whole blowjob incident and get his point across to Palermo.

Berlin grinned derisively at Palermo. “What I like about working with Alice, is that she has a certain degree of professionalism to her. Not once did she carry her personal feelings into the heist. Maybe you could learn a thing or two from her.”

Palermo’s eyes turned to slits and he turned his head away from Berlin and started stubbornly looking out the window again.

Not long after, Marseille drove the van into a deserted parking lot and pulled up next to a black sedan. The interior lights came on as he turned off the ignition and Marseille looked at Berlin patiently: “Do you want to wait a few minutes to see if she shows up?”

Palermo practically jumped out of his seat and squeezed between the two front seats. “Son of a bitch, she’s not going to show up! Why the fuck would she? We gave her the perfect plan to steal some cash tonight, what the fuck would she return for?” Palermo turned his head to the right to give Berlin a scornful look. “For you?” He added haughtily.

Berlin smiled charmingly at him in return. Their faces were so close, he could see the delicate lines of Palermo’s skin in the fluorescent light. His eyes involuntarily flickered to Palermo’s chapped lip. He couldn’t remember the last time they’d been this close to another. “I wouldn’t rule the possibility of that out.”

“Jesus Christ Andrés, just because you fuck her doesn’t mean you can trust her! Let’s just go.”

Marseille opened the driver’s door and stepped out. “I’m going to start the other car.” He pointed at the tube resting between Berlin’s legs. “I wouldn’t stay with that in the city tonight.” With that advice, he shut the door behind him and walked over to sit in the sedan.

“You heard him, Andrés. We need to get this fucking painting out of here!”

“Then you take it and leave”

“Fine.”

Berlin hadn’t expected Palermo to agree with him and tried to hide the surprised look on his face. Determinedly, Palermo pulled the back door open, although his hand lingered around the doorknob. With a sigh, he shut it again. “Just be careful, eh? Don’t risk anything for that girl, Andrés.”

He got out of the car and Berlin followed him out. He could hear music blasting from the other car and Berlin lifted his fingers, waving at Marseille in goodbye.

His heart pounded in his chest as he handed the tube over to Palermo. “I’ll meet you back at Sergio’s in a few days.”

“Don’t take too long, hermano.” Palermo smiled genuinely, his early anger completely evaporated as if had never been there in the first place. He pulled Berlin in a quick, loose hug, that still somehow managed to take Berlin’s breath away. His body felt warm against Berlin’s and he closed his eyes briefly, enjoying the weight of Palermo’s arms around his shoulders and inhaling Palermo’s familiar scent.

“Are you getting in or what?” Marseille yelled through the open window and shot them both a questioning look.

Berlin stepped away from the Palermo and, with a glance at his watch, turned back to the van.

He heard the sedan’s door opening and shutting again, the motor starting, and the vehicle driving off into the night. Berlin only looked up again when he found himself completely alone in the lot.

_It’s better this way_ , he kept telling himself as he turned the ignition and shifted the gear. The van felt empty with just him in it.

Berlin fiddled with the radio until a disco remix of a pop song started to play. The clock on the dashboard had stopped working and Berlin rotated his wrist to check his wristwatch once more.

He had to agree with Palermo, there was no way in hell Alice was going to meet him. Berlin wondered if he should feel at all disappointed; he certainly didn't feel surprised. _It’s better this way._ A break from Palermo would do Berlin some good.

It didn’t take Berlin long to get on the highway and leave the city of love behind.

* * *

**Present**

His throat felt dry as he spit on his palm one last time, making sure his cock was well lubricated and giving it a few more strokes before aligning the tip with Palermo’s hole. Berlin hesitated, his cock hard and pulsating in his hand. Palermo had been his best friend for years. Berlin thought they’d been close, but tonight everything felt different. It would be impossible to ever feel as close to Palermo as Berlin needed to at this moment.

His heart was racing a million miles per hour, which was ridiculous, all Berlin had to do was push his hips forward and that’d be it.

“Goddammit Andrés, I’m not a virgin. Stop being a tease and stick it in already!”

Berlin bit his lips and pushed his hips forward. A wave of warmth and tightness engulfed him. He bit down harder to suppress a moan and closed his eyes. He let his dick smoothly slide in all the way until his hipbones were pushing into Palermo’s ass cheeks and his balls hit against his hole.

Berlin tried to keep his body still and to enjoy just being inside Palermo. It felt so fucking good. Berlin didn’t know how long he would last but he wanted to stay like this all night. They could fall asleep like this in the morning.

Palermo lifted his hips and pushed his ass back to give Berlin more access. “Son of a bitch, move already!” Palermo grunted. His face was buried in the pillow and the words came out muffled.

Berlin pulled his dick out halfway and thrust back in with one quick, hard motion. The mattress squeaked loudly underneath them.

The candle was only weakly flickering now, just a small little blob of light in a room dipped in darkness. It would go out any moment now. He could feel the precum on his hand leaking out of Palermo’s dick steadily. It felt a bit strange to be holding someone else’s dick but Berlin was quickly getting used to it and gave it another squeeze that made Palermo exhale sharply and clench his ass cheeks together.

He needed him to be closer _._ Berlin pushed Palermo’s ass down and sprawled down on top of him until his face was buried in the nape of Palermo’s back. His skin felt cool against Palermo’s and Berlin pushed himself closer to him until there was no space left between them.

He rolled his entire body against Palermo’s, letting his dick slide in halfway in and out in quick, shallow thrusts. His hand was still around Palermo’s cock, crushed between the mattress and the weight of their bodies.

“Turn over,” Berlin ordered in a raspy voice that carried all the desire he felt within him.

Their chests glued together, their skin sticky with sweat. He could feel Palermo’s cock digging into his stomach.

A slight breeze crossed the room, making the candle flicker just for a moment. Just enough for Berlin to take Palermo’s face in and moan at the sight. Palermo’s eyes were almost completely black with desire, his lips were red and swollen, and his hair was wet with sweat.

The flame grew smaller again, resembling a cotton swap on fire. Berlin couldn’t make out more than the outline of Palermo’s body and so he closed his eyes, remembering everything he’d just seen and focused solely on his sense of touch.

The mattress began to squeak louder and to shake as Berlin picked up on speed, each thrust followed the other faster and harder. He felt Palermo’s hand pushing between their chests and wrap around his cock, jerking himself off and letting more precum leak onto Berlin’s stomach.

He could feel the blood building up in his dick, the pressure was becoming unbearable, but Berlin didn’t want to come yet. His cock screamed at him in protest, but Berlin slowed down his thrusts and lifted his head up to kiss Palermo on the lips.

They made out lazily, bodies rolling softly against each other, Palermo’s hand increasingly moving up and down his cock, smearing more precum on Berlin’s lower abs.

“Go faster,” Palermo moaned and pushed his legs up to give Berlin more access.

“We have all night,” Berlin murmured in protest against his lips. “Let’s just take our time with this.”

Palermo’s free hand grabbed Berlin’s ass and pushed him down lower on him, making sure that Berlin’s dick really was all the way inside his ass. Sighing exaggeratedly, Palermo admitted coyly: “I guess we could do this forever.”

“It’ll have to be a short forever,” Berlin chuckled darkly and rolled his hips against him in a torturously slow manner. “’Til death do us apart, and I won’t be alive for much longer.”

He went to give Palermo another kiss, who turned his head away and pushed Berlin off him. “Why the fuck did you have to say that?”

Berlin sat up and shrugged. His cock felt cold and dry out in the open. He wanted it back inside Palermo’s ass. “It makes tonight more memorable, doesn’t it? Who knows when I’ll lose control over that part of my body, maybe tonight’s our only night like this.” He tried to lighten the mood and smirked, unsure if Palermo could even see his face in the dark. Berlin’s own eyes still hadn’t adjusted enough to make out more than a rough shape of Palermo’s silhouette.

“I don’t want to think about this while we fuck,” Palermo snapped accusingly and sat up across from him. Berlin was suddenly glad for the low flame.

“Saying it out loud doesn’t change the fact that I’ll be dead in a few years.”

“I know,” Palermo whispered so quietly, Berlin almost didn’t hear it. “I just don’t understand why you keep bringing all this shit up. First the monastery, the heist, now this. You never seemed to want to talk about it before.”

“What’s there to talk about? You live, you die. It doesn’t leave much room for discussion.”

Palermo didn’t respond. He pulled the blanket out from where it was balled up in a corner and laid down again.

His soft breathing helped slow down Berlin’s rapid heartbeat and he had to resist the urge to cuddle up to Palermo. Stubbornly, Berlin leaned against the wall and let his head rest. He was tempted to light another cigarette, half-forgetting how disgusting the first one had tasted.

“It’s a bit ironic,” Berlin began, although there was no humour in his voice. “I’ve put myself in so many situations where death was just around the corner. You’d think it’d be a bullet to get me, something sudden, something caused by my own action. But there’s nothing I can do about this. Death is looming over my head now and I know he’s coming closer every fucking day. Had I lived to be a saint or hero, I’d still go out this way. So much for making the right choices, right? In the end, you get fucked either way.”

He felt Palermo’s hand rest on his leg in reassurance and watched him roll over closer to him. Palermo opened his mouth to say something, but shut it again without making a sound. Berlin wished he’d kept his own mouth shut.

“If you’re going to sleep, give me some of the blanket. I don’t want to have to rip it out underneath you again.”

Palermo huffed something snarky under his breath but loosened his cocoon and pulled Berlin underneath. Immediate warmth engulfed him and Berlin snuggled closer around Palermo’s body.

Tiredness washed over him and before he knew it, Berlin was soundly asleep.

*

_The End_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading, commenting, and leaving kudos! I hope you enjoyed the story ❤️❤️❤️


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